


By Crown and Claw

by Araloth



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Combustion, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Theo Raeken, Canon-Typical Violence, Cultural Differences, Established Relationship, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Human Experimentation, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Magical Artifacts, Magical Creatures, Middle Ages, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, Royalty, Servants, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Supernatural Hunters, Swordfighting, Swords & Sorcery, Top Liam Dunbar, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wizard Lydia, Wizard Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 48,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26860405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araloth/pseuds/Araloth
Summary: Since the beginning, the Kingdom of Beacon has been ruled by werewolf kings, the Hales, in a line unbroken. Magic is plentiful in Beacon, and flows freely, becoming a part of daily life. But not all is well. Still feeling the scars of an attack on the capitol years ago, Beacon is on a precipice. The last of the Hale kings has no true heir.Scott is thrilled when his best friend Stiles manages to secure him a position as a servant at the palace, but Scott soon discovers not everything is what it appears to be. Through fate or luck, circumstance conspires against Scott to change his life forever… placing Scott on a path he could never have imagined.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Isaac Lahey/Jackson Whittemore, Isaac Lahey/Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Lydia Martin/Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin/Stiles Stilinski, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 12
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

“Scott!” His mother pounded on the door to his room. “You need to get up or you’ll be late!”

Scott groaned and rolled onto his back. The thatch of his mattress was poking through a little in spots, and Scott could feel it rubbing against his skin. He blinked his eyes open blearily. The morning sun was already starting to stream in through the shutters.

“Scott!!”

“I’m up!” Scott groaned. “I’m up…” He heaved himself up into a sitting position. No doubt his mother had already been up for hours, gathering herbs and making a few quick stops before the shop opened up. Scott stumbled over to the small chest of drawers he used as a dresser and tugged. The bottom drawer always stuck, and Scott had to fight with it a minute to finally get it open. Scott shifted though the clothes inside carefully. He needed to look his best today, but given where he was headed it was probably a good idea to wear something he could afford to get dirty. Scott pulled out the doublet his mother had gotten him two summers ago. It was getting a little tight in his shoulders and had a tendency to sneak up if Scott raised his arms too high, but the fabric was still in good enough condition. Plus, the darker green color would help to hide any stains.

Scott pulled out his trousers next. He didn't as much of a choice with them. Scott had a bit of a growth spurt in the last few months, thankfully almost all in his legs, but it meant only one or two pairs really fit him right. And his normal day to day pants had a small hole growing in the knee. Scott pulled on his best pair and privately hoped it was the right decision. Maybe if this position worked Scott could help chip in for some new clothes for him and his mother. The traveling merchants always brought all kinds of new designs when their caravans came through Beacon in the fall, and Scott smiled at the thought of being able to buy his mother something nice.

First, he had to make this new job work though. Scott paused for a second to dig out the battered little shard he used as a mirror. Even a piece this small was something of a treasure in the middle ring, the craftsmanship or spells that went into making mirrors didn’t come cheap. Scott raked his fingers through his hair, trying his best to smooth it all out.

“Stiles is here!” His mother’s voice drifted up from downstairs this time. She must have headed back down once she finally heard movement from Scott.

“Tell him I’ll be right there!”

Scott took a deep breath and give himself one more quick look over. Today could be the day everything started to change for him. Satisfied that things were as good as they were going to get, Scott hid his mirror shard and raced downstairs. His mother was in the kitchen, a big barrel of herbs sitting on the floor next to her. She was stirring something on the stove, the small enchanted crystals on its top glowing with heat. Other flowers and herbs hung drying from pegs around the walls. Some Scott recognized, and others he didn’t. Scott stepped around the barrel carefully and gave his mother a quick kiss on her cheek.

Melissa had her hair pulled up and out of the way as she worked. She smiled at Scott, never stopping stirring whatever concoction she was making. Scott smiled back. It had just been Scott and his mother since his father died almost five years ago now. Melissa was young enough and pretty enough that she had gotten several offers to remarry, even when that would have meant the would-be groom having to take Scott in too as an extra mouth to feed. But Scott’s mother had turned them all down, one after the other. She worked hard as a healer to provide for everything she and Scott might need all by herself. The work Melissa did wasn’t as quick, or as easy as the magical healing the city’s mages could have managed, but the guilds let mages set their own prices for their work, which left most citizens of Beacon in the middle or lower rings unable to afford the luxury. So, Melissa spent her days and night gathering herbs and brewing elixirs for everything from pain relief to purgatives. They weren't true potions in the magical sense, but Melissa's knowledge of herbs and the quality of her work made her quite popular in the lower districts of the city. She'd get the occasional drop-in too, someone cut and bleeding from a bar fight or the victim of an unfortunate horse accident. Scott worried sometimes about the kind of customers his mother’s work attracted, but most of them were kind, hardworking people just like his mother.

"Hi, sweetie." Melissa pointed at a flower hanging on the wall closest to Scott. "Hand me that would you?"

"Sure." Scott passed it over to her, and Melissa started to strip off the blooms and crush them with a small mortar and pestle while the liquid on the stove simmered. 

“You should eat something before you go.”

"I'll be fine," Scott said quickly. "Stiles said we can get something in the palace kitchens later if we're lucky."

“Take the last piece of bread at least.” Melissa pointed to it over on the counter. “You need to eat something.”

Scott couldn’t help but notice it was some of the only food in their kitchen at the moment. “You have it.”

“Scott.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine.” Scott sighed. “Honest.”

Melissa stopped what she was doing and turned to stare at Scott, crossing both arms over her chest. "Take it, sweetie."

Scott shook his head, relenting. He was pretty hungry. “Fine, but if Stiles does get us into the palace kitchens I’m bringing you something.”

Melissa smiled, turning back to her work. “Just don’t do anything that will get you in trouble alright? You know I love Stiles, but he can be a bit…well…”

Scott laughed. “I’ll be careful.”

“Take care.” Melissa patted Scott on the shoulder as he crammed the slice of bread into his mouth.

“Mmph.” Scott swallowed quickly. “I will. I love you! He called back as he rushed for their front door.

“Love you too!”

Scott swung open the front door of their house and nearly plowed right into Stiles. Scott smiled, his friend was wearing his new apprentice robes and bouncing eagerly from foot to foot.

“You ready to go?” Stiles asked. “We’ll have to hurry if we want to get up there in time…”

“Yeah.” Scott nodded and fell into step next to Stiles. “Thanks for waiting. And thank you again for getting me this job.”

“Phh-“Stiles grinned and waved Scott off. “It was nothing. What good is getting a position in the palace if you can’t get one for your friend too right?”

They started walking a little faster, the streets were starting to fill up even here in the middle ring. Scott could only imagine what the traffic would be like as they got closer to the palace.

“So, what is Deaton like anyways?" Scott asked. "I know you only just started…" Stiles' face fell, and Scott trailed off. Deaton was the High Wizard of Beacon, the most powerful magic-user in the kingdom. Or more accurately he was the _new_ High Wizard. Stiles’ mother had held the position herself for years before her death. So many families in the kingdom had lost loved ones during the Fall… It was the only way anyone referred to the attack anymore. Eight years ago, enemy forces had made their way into the city, into the very palace itself, and slain so many. Scott had heard that almost every family who had loved ones serving with the knights of the realm had lost someone. And that wasn’t the worst of it. Almost every member of the royal family had been killed, from Queen Talia down to each of her children. Stiles’ mother had perished in the attack too. No one knew how it had happened.

The attack should have been impossible. Beacon was a marvel of magical engineering, carved from the side of an entire mountain. The city's back was solid stone, reinforced by centuries of spellcraft and wards. No one could bore through the mountain to get inside. On its other three sides, the city was surrounded by a massive lake. To reach the city's shore invading armies had to first brave the lake and the fleet of ships that patrolled it, yet somehow the enemy forces had slipped in and out of the city unseen. The attack was the greatest tragedy in the living memory of Beacon. Deaton, the new High Wizard, come out of retirement to serve what was left of the royal family in its hour of need. 

“He’s fine I guess…” Stiles shrugged. “There’s still no way I should have been chosen to be his apprentice.”

“Hey-“ Scott stopped to look his friend in the eye. “You have real power. I’ve seen it.”

“You mean when I almost burned my whole house down?” Stiles smiled ruefully.

Scott winced. Stiles’ magical powers had come in with a bang when he turned fifteen. Thankfully Stiles' father was the captain of the city watch and had been able to afford to repair the, admittedly, extensive damage to their home. Even now after almost two years at the academy Stiles still had the unfortunate habit of throwing off sparks sometimes. “Still-“

Stiles rolled his eyes. “C’mon Scotty, we both know why I got the job, and it has nothing to do with me.”

Stiles’ mother had been the last student Deaton had personally taken on before his initial retirement. Now that he was back as High Wizard, being his apprentice was a highly sought-after job, even by the various nobles with magical ability and their children. The position was thought to be a perfect stepping stone to one day taking over the role of High Wizard itself, and Scott knew more than a few people had been angered when someone as low in status as Stiles had gotten the job. 

“You don’t know that.” Scott shrugged. “Who can guess why a High Wizard does anything?”

Stiles snorted. “Sure man…”

As they rounded the corner from Scott’s house, the palace finally came into view. It loomed high above them, looking down on the rest of the city. Whoever had designed Beacon centuries ago had kept the natural elevation of the mountain intact, placing the palace at the very height of the city. Above the main structure was the huge tower from which Beacon got its name. The fire burning in it was visible from miles around, drawing people to the city like moths to a flame. Immediately below the palace were the estates where the various noble houses of Beacon resided, some of them with sprawling grounds as big as the entire block Scott lived on. As you worked your way down from the palace the prosperity of the city slowly dipped as well. The middle ring where Scott lived was mostly filled with merchants and better off tradesmen, as well as a few of the less prominent knights. The city watch’s main barracks were there as well, which had enabled Scott and Stiles to grow up only a few streets apart. The lower rings of the city were poorer. Some people eked by working as fishermen on the lake or performing other more labor-intensive jobs, but others weren’t so lucky. Even in a city and a kingdom as prosperous as Beacon some people suffered, and there were darker and seedier parts of the city to prove it. Most of the lower ring was fine, but everyone knew it wasn’t a place you wanted to get lost after dark.

Besides providing social strata, the elevation of the city meant that any invading forces would have to fight their way uphill the entire time if they ever hoped to storm the palace, adding even more difficulty to an already herculean task. It also had the side effect, planned or unplanned, of draining all the waste from the upper levels down into the lower ones. There was a reason all the doors in the middle and lower rings faced away from the palace and the noble estates. The last thing you wanted was shit from some lord's chamber pot sliding under your door. 

When they came to the gate to the upper ring of the city, Stiles went first, showing his necklace with the High Wizard’s emblem on it to one of the guards, and motioning over to Scott. “My friend here just got a job in the palace too. Today’s his first day so he won’t have clearance yet…”

The guard, a portly knight, bulging out of his armor in several spots, looked like he hadn't seen a battle or even the training yard for years. He seemed bored to be stuck at the gate, but the sword hanging from his belt was still sharp enough to kill. The guard eyed Scott warily. “What do you do?”

"Uh- I'm going to be working in the stables, sir." Scott summoned up a smile. "Training the horses for-“

“Yeah, yeah.” The guard sighed and glanced back to Stiles. “You say he’s good, so I'll let him pass, but if he's not supposed to be up there and anything happens it's on your head, not mine got it?"

“Of course!” Stiles grinned at the guard. “But don’t worry Murry, when have I ever led you wrong?”

Murry grunted and waved them through the gate. “First time for everything.”

"You wound me, Murray!" Stiles called back as they passed through. "Wound me!"

“I am allowed to come through here right?" Scott asked anxiously once they were past the checkpoint. 

“Course you are.” Stiles patted Scott’s back. “Don’t worry, once we get you set you’ll be able to come and go on your own no problem. But-“ Stiles whirled around to stand in front of Scott. “First rule of working in the upper ring okay? Always make friends with the guards. You never know where one might get stationed, and what you might need. Got it?”

“Why does it sound like that comes from personal experience?”

“Because you know me so well.” Stiles laughed. “But I want to be very clear, Harris’ hatred for me is entirely not my fault!”

“If you say so.” Scott chuckled.

“The fire was an accident!” Stiles laughed, steering Scott down the street to their right. “The fact that it only burned his shoes was purely a coincidence.”

“Was that before or after he called you a klutz?” Scott asked.

Stiles winked. “Like I said- total coincidence-“ Stiles rounded the corner onto one of the main thoroughfares and froze suddenly.

Scott frowned. “What is it?”

Stiles was already kneeling down, heedless of the puddle his robes were dipping down into. “Scott!” Stiles hissed at him and tugged on Scott’s breeches. “Get down!”

All around Scott other people were falling to their knees too. A procession was coming down the hill towards them, and Scott realized with a start who must be leading it. Scott quickly slid down to his knee. He didn’t let his knee actually touch the street, trying instead to balance all his weight on just his feet. The last thing he wanted to do was to show up to work looking muddy and bedraggled. Scott needed to make a good first impression.

Knights Scott’s age or a little older led the column, their bright red cloaks flapping behind them. The dye used for those cloaks was incredibly exclusive. Only the banners with Beacon’s heraldry and Knights of the realm were allowed to wear that color. Scott glanced a little further down the column. A few strides behind the first knights a standard-bearer held the emblem of the kings of Beacon up high, a black wolf with red eyes on a field of that same bright red. Scott had never gotten such a close look at the color before. In the early morning light, the knights' cloaks and the banner behind them seemed to dance in the wind with a fiery energy all their own.

Scott had never met the King before, only seen his image projected across the city magically when he made a big speech or two, but even if Scott hadn’t seen his likeness before, he would have known the man the minute he saw him. The King rode a massive black charger, the horse standing taller than any other in the procession. The King himself was the picture of regality. He sat perfectly straight in the saddle, the lines of his rich clothing unbroken by a sword belt. He alone amongst his knights would have no need for steel. Scott watched the man’s eyes change from their normal human blue to the red glow of the wolf kings as he surveyed the crowd lining the street.

If the high tower of the palace was where Beacon got its name, it was the power of its rulers that made it so legendary. For centuries unbroken Beacon had been ruled by the only werewolves in the world. Legend said that a great wizard Lycaon had created the spell that made werewolves back when the world was young, blessing a select few with powers no other man could ever possess. Scott had asked Stiles about the legends once. No wizard had been able to replicate the spell or make another like it in all the years since. Whatever secret of magic Lycaon had unwrapped that allowed him to bless his sons and daughter with the power was lost to time. Werewolves never had any magic of their own, but with the incredible healing and strength, they wielded they didn't need it. According to the histories, once in the early years of the foundation of Beacon, a group of wizards had challenged the wolf king for the right to rule, thinking their collective magical knowledge made them the better choice. The wolf king had gutted them all before they could even cast a spell.

Lycaon’s gift was only passed down by blood. Since Beacon's founding, the Hale kings and queens had all possessed the gift and passed it down to their children. It was written into the laws of Beacon that any king or queen of the realm must possess the gift. Sometimes the power worked in mysterious ways. While Scott couldn’t remember having ever heard of a member of the royal blood who didn’t have the gift, the power could skip generations. It wasn’t unheard of for some distant cousin of the Hales to develop the gift generations later. Whenever that happened the cousin in question was immediately taken into the main house. Anyone who had the gift was made a part of the line of succession, no matter how far down they would be.

The King’s gaze roamed over the crowd as he rode closer. He wore the ancient wolf crown of the Hales on his head, the dark metal twisted and shaped to look like the fangs of a wolf. He smiled down at his subjects, raising his hand to wave.

“LONG LIVE KING PETER!”

The first cry came from Scott’s left, but before long the chant was being picked up all over. Scott heard Stiles echo the call, and added his own voice to the mix.

“Long live the King!”

A young man with sandy brown hair rode up next to the king on a white horse. “A good crowd today Uncle.”

Scott tensed. The man was wearing the red cloak of a knight of the realm. Even with the gold bars that denoted him as a captain, Scott couldn’t believe anyone would be so informal with the King. He had heard of men being thrown into the stocks for not addressing the King by his proper titles. And the man had called the King uncle… as far as Scott knew the King had no living family. “Who is that?” Scott whispered to Stiles, keeping his head down.

"Jackson Whittemore," Stiles said quietly back. "Properly Lord Whittemore after the deaths of his parents. They were some of Queen Talia’s most loyal retainers. They died during the Fall. King Peter took him in as a ward of the crown.”

Trust Stiles to know what was what. His friend had always had a way of hearing things, and with his new position at court Stiles made sure to know who all of the major players were. “So the King's not really his uncle?" Scott asked. He knew most of the lords of Beacon were distantly related to the Hales, but he didn't think any of the current generations were close enough to actually be the King’s nephew.

“No.” Stiles shook his head. “It’s just an honorific. Jackson is the only person the King lets address him like that…”

Scott felt a pang of sadness. So many people had lost family during the Fall. It was good that the King and Jackson had each other at least. Scott couldn’t imagine how lonely the King must be without any real family and the pressures of running the entire kingdom on his shoulders. Beacon was fortunate King Peter was up to the task.

The King smiled and clasped Jackson’s shoulder. He leaned in to say something to him, but Scott couldn’t hear it over the cheering and chanting of the crowd. Scott’s eyes drifted behind the King. Three more riders rode in the center of the procession, on horses unlike any Scott had ever seen before. Two were older, a man and a woman about the age of Scott’s own mother if he had to guess, although their fine clothing and jewelry made it a little harder to judge. The third rider was a beautiful young woman with long dark hair and a heart-shaped face. Scott nudged Stiles to get him to look. "Who is that?"

Stiles chuckled. "Kira Yukimura. Way, way out of your league." He grinned at Scott. "She's the princess of Kitsune. Those are her parents with her. They’re here to work out some kind of treaty I think…”

“She’s beautiful.”

“You’re not wrong.” Stiles smiled wider. “But again-“

“So, so far out of our league.” Scott laughed. “I got it.”

The procession moved ahead slowly. The King kept waving as they slowly headed towards the King’s Road. It wouldn’t do for the King and other high-born nobles to have to pass through the lower, less desirable levels of the city every time they left or returned home. There was a separate road running from the palace down to the lower levels and the lake beyond that. Guard outposts there bracketed the street at each level, and even from this distance, Scott could see the finer quality cobblestones, pieced together seamlessly to avoid a horse throwing a shoe.

“Where do you think they’re going?” Scott asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe a boat trip on the lake.” He grabbed Scott’s shoulder and helped him up. All around them the rest of the crowd was climbing back to their feet too, now that the King had passed. Stiles tried to kick some of the mud off of his robe and instead managed to leave a distinctive footprint along the hem. Scott looked back towards the King’s Road, trying to steal one last glance at the column. They had all looked so refined. Even the horses had seemed more regal than the ones Scott ran into in the middle ring. It was hard to believe he might be working with some of them soon.

“C’mon!” Stiles tugged on Scott’s arm. “We’re going to be late, but at least now we’ll have an excuse.” Stiles raced towards the palace, bobbing and weaving between the wealthy merchants and nobles who called the upper ring home. Scott followed him as best he could. A couple of people shot them dirty glares. Stiles plowed forward obliviously, but Scott winced and ducked his head in apology. Stiles finally took a corner too fast and ran headlong into a noblewoman and her guard.

The woman puffed herself up to her full height, still almost a head below Stiles. “How _dare_ you!” She glared at Stiles haughtily. “You could have ruined my dress!” She pointed a boney finger up at Stiles imperiously. “I’ll have you whipped so thoroughly-“

"Sorry, my lady." Stiles bowed stiffly, his hand reaching for his necklace. "Important business for the High Wizard…"

"Oh, well…" Some of the fire bled out of the noblewoman. The High Wizard's authority was second only to the King's. Stiles might have only been a lowly apprentice, but even a noble would be careful about interfering in the High Wizard's work. After all, it was the mages of Beacon that helped it to prosper so. Get on the bad side of a wizard and suddenly one might find their crops not as plentiful, or the estate besieged by pests. Magic was just as important as money in Beacon. The woman cleared her throat. “I can forgive you this once… since you’re in such a hurry.” The woman huffed. “But next time pay better attention where you’re walking!”

“Of course, my lady." Stiles bowed a little deeper and then took off again. Scott chased after him, not wanting to be left behind. Stiles caught Scott’s eye as they raced up the steps to the palace level, grinning mischievously. “This pendant is like a get out of jail free card.”

Scott smiled back. “Probably shouldn’t test that idea.”

Stiles laughed and tucked his necklace back into his shirt. As they climbed up the great marble steps of the palace Stiles suddenly turned away from the main gate, circling around towards the side. Scott followed him curiously. Stiles nodded to the main gates. “That way is just for nobility. It has all the pomp and circumstance.” Stiles pointed to a smaller door hidden around the corner of the main gate and only manned by a single guard. “This is one of the servant entrances. Most of the time they’ll get you where you need to be faster anyways.”

Scott was a little disappointed to not get to see the castle in all its glory. Stiles nodded to the guard on duty who clearly recognized him and opened the door for Stiles. The guard glanced at Scott only briefly before turning back to a resting position. Stiles led Scott inside, and Scott was immediately taken by the sheer scale of the palace. Even in the servants' corridors, two or three people could pass abreast at a time, and Stiles led Scott down lengths of hallway longer than Scott's whole block. The passage twisted and turned, wrapping around unseen rooms like a giant snake. Forks sprung off in different directions, and Scott saw dozens of servants coming and going, ducking in and out of rooms in the palace through small doors in the hallway. Stiles seemed to take turns and forks at random, and Scott worried how he’d ever find his way in this place. Stiles seemed to sense his panic. He pointed to some markings at the next junction.

"These will tell you which rooms are what way." Stiles gestured at two of them. "This shows that the kitchens are back this hall," Stiles nodded to the passage on their right. He tapped his finger against the second marking. Scott took a closer look and realized it was a crudely drawn horseshoe. "And this shows you the stables are back this way," Stiles said, waving at the hallway in front of them. 

Scott leaned closer to the wall. Besides the two symbols, Stiles had pointed out there must have been dozens of others scrawled at this one corner junction. Some of the symbols like the horseshoe made sense to Scott, but he had no idea what some of the others might mean.

“You’ll get the hang of it.” Stiles started down the path towards the stables. “It only took me a week or two of getting lost all the time to start putting it together.”

“Why don’t they just write the names of the rooms out?” Scott asked. The pictures might save a little space, but it would make the whole system harder to learn too.

Stiles grimaced and glanced over his shoulder. He lowered his voice carefully. “Most of the servants can’t read. Or at least enough of them that the words wouldn’t be helpful…”

Scott nodded a little guiltily. His mother had taught Scott to read to help her with some of her work when he was younger. Scott wasn’t an expert, he hadn’t had to decipher magical tomes like Stiles, but he still took for granted sometimes that reading was something most people at his station couldn’t do. Last year for his birthday Scott’s mother had managed to get her hands on a battered secondhand tome about some of the magical creatures of the world for him by calling in favors with a customer. Scott treasured it. Books of any kind were expensive and hard to come by, and he had loved learning about things he might never see that lived outside of Beacon’s walls. Even in the condition, it was in, the book was probably the most expensive thing Scott had ever owned. Scott kept it under his mattress for safekeeping, lacking any more secure place to hide it. 

The hallway they were in turned suddenly, and widened, opening out into a huge courtyard. One side of the yard boasted a huge gate for riders to come and go. Guard houses sat on either side of it, and Scott spotted large crystals embedded in the cobblestones, glowing with defensive magic. The gate itself was open and wide enough for several whole carriages to fit through at once. Above it, Scott saw the solid stone that lay ready to slam down and seal the opening, two great pullies attached to it at both ends. Scott looked around in awe. On the opposite side of the courtyard from Scott and Stiles was another solid castle wall and Scott was overwhelmed to realize that everything they had just walked around was barely half of the castle’s total size. In one corner of the plaza several knights were sparring, a couple of straw dummies were set up for archery, and the clash of dulled sparring swords rang out as the knights faced off. 

The stables were the most commanding presence. On the opposite side of the yard from the knights stood a massive wooden structure. Stiles led Scott over at an easy walk. They stepped inside the closest doors and Scott breathed in the smell of the animals and clean straw. There were easily fifty stalls, and Scott knew this stable was only one of several stationed around the palace grounds.

"There you are." A voice came from inside one of the stalls, and Stiles grinned. A man not much older than Scott stepped out, a horse brush in his hand. He had dark hair and tanned skin that spoke of spending a lot of time outside, but it was the red cloak wrapped around his shoulders that made Scott stare. The head of the stables was a knight?

“You’re late Stilinski.”

Stiles squinted at the knight for a second, and then grinned wider. “The King and his procession made us lose time. But you knew that already didn’t you?”

Scott gaped at Stiles. Even as an apprentice to the High Wizard, a full knight of the realm was well above his station. Scott couldn’t believe his friend spoke to the man like that.

A deeper chuckle broke out of the knight’s mouth, and his features started to blur. Scott gasped as the man before them changed, his face and skin warping, and the red cloak melting away into a set of immaculate robes. Scott fell to his knees as the features of the man settled again. He wore dark robes that made his skin seem a richer chocolaty brown. His head was shorn, and Scott saw amusement dancing in his eyes. In his left hand was an ebony staff taller than Scott, a pronged crystal the size of a man's fist glittering at its top. _The High Wizard_.

The High Wizard smiled at Stiles. “How did you know it was me?”

“Sensing, like you were telling me," Stiles said easily. "Danny doesn't feel like a magical supernova Master Deaton."

Deaton nodded sagely. “Always remember to be aware. Someone may disguise themselves but forget something that gives them away.”

“Did you really forget sir?” Stiles asked.

Deaton gave Stiles a more serious look. “What do you think?” Deaton smiled then and turned back to the stall he had stepped out of. He waved his hand, and the air seemed to shimmer for a moment. "You may come out now, Daniel. Thank you for indulging me, for my student’s lesson.”

A man seemed to step out of thin air, a perfect copy of the illusion Deaton had been projecting a moment ago. Or really, Scott thought, Deaton had been a copy of this real man. The knight- Daniel- seemed to have an ease moving that the Wizard hadn’t copied. Everything Deaton did seemed deliberate, almost planned, but the knight seemed content in the moment. The knight bowed to Deaton. “I was happy to help my lord.”

In truth, Deaton wasn’t a noble, and therefore not a lord of Beacon. But as Scott well knew the “lord” honorific was always offered to the High Wizard anyways, regardless of their birth. Tradition said it was the proper courtesy, but having seen some of the damage Stiles could do on accident, Scott had always privately wondered if the founders of Beacon had simply wanted to avoid angering their most powerful magic-user. 

Deaton turned to Scott, still on his knees. “You must be Stiles’ friend I’ve been hearing so much about. Please, stand up.”

Scott stood slowly. “I’m uh- Scott sir. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Yes, I could imagine it would be.” Deaton smiled mysteriously. “Good to meet you, Scott."

“Daniel.” The knight offered his hand out for Scott to shake, something almost unheard of given the difference between their stations. “But everybody calls me Danny.”

Scott hesitated, before tentatively shaking Danny’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Deaton seemed to notice Scott’s hesitation and smiled. “Our young knight here is rather unique.”

“I just don’t like to stand on principle.” Danny shrugged. He smiled at Scott. “I figure if we’re going to be working together, we should at least be able to be friendly.”

“So, tell me Scott,” Deaton’s eyes almost twinkled. “What do you think of the stables?”

“They’re incredible. I’ve never seen anything quite like them.”

Deaton nodded. “The King has some special needs for his horses, so we keep the most important ones here inside the gate. A werewolf is first and foremost a predator, and that can spook the horses. It takes some time to train them out of it.”

"Plus having them get used to the sounds of knights hitting each other isn't bad either," Danny said with a grin. "Especially for the warhorses.

Scott heard the clopping of hooves and saw a young woman with bright red hair leading a gray mare back into the stables. She handed her horse off to one of the grooms who came running up to take it and turned to eye Scott and the others. Her eyes flicked over them all, mostly ignoring Scott, before finally settling on Deaton. The girl nodded. “High Wizard.”

Deaton smiled back. “Lady Martin.”

Scott would have known she was a noble even if Deaton hadn't addressed her. The girl was dressed in riding clothes, but they fit her like a glove, with a simple elegance you didn't see in the lower rings. Even coming back from riding there didn't look to be a fleck of dirt on her outfit. Scott spied a long amethyst crystal on a fine silver chain around her neck. Was she a wizard too then?

“H-hey Lydia.” Stiles was grinning like an idiot, and Scott inwardly cringed at how informal his friend was being.

The noble, Lydia, Scott supposed, smiled slyly at Stiles. “Stiles.”

Sudden heat blossomed behind Scott. He turned around to find sparks falling from Stiles’ fingers, and catching on the straw below, starting a small fire. Stiles didn’t seem to notice.

“Stiles!” Scott grabbed his friend’s arm that wasn’t making things spontaneously combust.

"Hm?' Stiles gave Scott a puzzled look before he finally saw the fire. "OH! Damn it!" Stiles shook his hand quickly, stopping any fresh sparks from falling, but the little fire on the floor was getting bigger. Scott heard a couple horses in the nearest stalls cry out nervously. Stiles waved his hands at the flames, mumbling under his breath. Nothing happened. Stiles paled a little. “Uh-“

Deaton sighed, but Scott thought he caught a small smile on the older man's face too. Deaton flicked his fingers at the flames and they winked out in an instant. Stiles swallowed hard.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t worry.” Deaton’s smile widened, and he winked at Danny who seemed to take the whole thing in stride. “I believe we should be out of the danger zone now that Lady Martin has left…”

Sure enough, Scott looked back just in time to catch a glimpse of her heel as she exited the other side of the stables. Stiles blushed furiously. Scott bit his lip to try and keep from smiling too widely.

“Come on,” Danny chuckled and nodded down the rows of horse stalls. “I’ll give you the tour Scott.”

Scott spared a glance back at Stiles who gave him a very obvious thumbs-up. “Sure.” Scott smiling back at Danny. “I’d like that.”

Danny led Scott deeper into the stables. He paused here or there to point out a horse and introduce Scott to them. Scott was amazed by the variety in color on display. Most of the horses he’d seen in the lower rings of the city were some combination of browns and whites, but here Scott saw all black horses, a pure white stallion, and horses with all manner of beautiful patterns that looked almost painted on. There were even a few horses who were close to red in color. Scott couldn’t help but smile, and Danny smiled back easily. The knight really didn’t seem to care about the huge social divide between them. Scott hoped more people at the palace had that attitude too.

“And this guy here-“Danny stopped at one of the last stalls in the stable. “Is Alpha.”

Scott starred at the horse in awe. He was entirely black, and the most massive horse Scott had ever seen. He was easily several heads taller than some of the other chargers they had passed.

“Alpha is the King’s favorite warhorse.”

Scott nodded slowly. Alpha just looked kingly. Scott couldn’t imagine anyone else riding him.

“He can be a little standoffish, so if you’re going to be working here it’s a good idea we get you introduced to him.” Danny smiled. “Alpha pretty much runs these stables.”

“O-okay.”

Danny reached down to unbolt the stall, which was easily the biggest Scott had seen. Alpha snorted when he saw Danny, then turned his attention towards Scott. The big horse whinnied, pawing the ground restlessly. “It’s okay big guy.” Danny smiled and fished an apple out from somewhere. Scott was reluctant to tear his eyes away from Alpha. Even agitated like this he was something to behold. “Here,” Danny dropped the apple into Scott’s hand. “Give it to him.”

Scott stepped forward cautiously, apple held in front of him in outstretched arms. Alpha snorted, and moved around the offered apple to get closer to Scott. Scott froze up a little as Alpha leaned in closer to sniff at him. Whatever he sensed from Scott the horse must have decided it was alright because he leaned forward to nuzzle against Scott's neck for a moment before suddenly remembering the apple. Scott laughed, as the now gentle giant happily took the fruit out of Scott's hands. Scott reached out to touch Alpha tentatively, running his hand through the horse’s silky mane. Scott smiled wider when Alpha leaned into his touch.

Danny chuckled, coming over to pat Alpha’s other side. “Yeah, see boy? I wouldn’t bring in anybody you wouldn’t like to see you.”

Alpha snorted, and butted his head against Danny’s. Scott couldn’t help laughing. Danny grinned, meeting his eye from the other side of the horse. “I think you’re going work out great here Scott.”

***

Jackson kept a smile plastered to his face for the entire ride back to the palace. He’d had to endure hours on the stupid boat tour of the lake the King had set up for the Yukimuras. And that wasn’t even counting the time the King had set aside last night for Jackson to get his hair cut, and polish all of his armor. Jackson knew when he was being paraded about like a piece of meat. He doubted it was a coincidence the Yukimuras’ daughter Kira had been brought along for the treaty negotiations-even if she was the heir to all of Kitsune. The _proper_ heir. Jackson liked Kira well enough. They'd met once or twice before, most recently when King Peter had journeyed to the kingdom of Kitsune last fall. Jackson had been serving as the head of the King's guard, officially in his capacity as a knight captain. He and Kira had a few friendly conversations, but whatever the King had seen between them had obviously given him hope for something more. Jackson doubted the boat ride had been the succus the King hoped it would be. There had been an unspoken tension for most of the ride. Jackson smiled and engaged Kira in friendly banter like the King wanted, but for every smile Jackson won from King Peter, there was a matching frown from Kira’s mother.

When Jackson got back to the castle, Danny was showing a new hand around the stables. Jackson's horse went with him easily enough. They hadn't done any hard riding today, but Jackson was still planning on coming back later to check up on his horse and make sure he'd been properly taken care of. The last thing Jackson needed was some wet behind the ears stable boy injuring his horse. Jackson cocked one eyebrow in a silent question when he caught Danny's eye. Danny smiled, and nodded, endorsing the new servant. Still, as much as Jackson liked Danny, Danny thought the best of everyone. Jackson didn't have that luxury.

Jackson trudged back up to his rooms in the palace in silence. The King had spirited the Yukimuras away on the ride back for some more sightseeing. Jackson hadn’t been invited. King Peter had played it off, asking Jackson to make sure all the arrangements were in place for the Yukimuras’ departure tomorrow, but Jackson knew a dismissal when he heard one by now. In truth, a part of Jackson had been relived. Whatever the King had been planning with all the play-acting this morning, Jackson was glad to be done with it. The Yukimuras would be leaving tomorrow, having renewed the peace treaty between Beacon and Kitsune. The King might be best avoided for a few days afterward if he had other plans that fell through, but the treaty itself would be enough for Jackson. Given all the recent turmoil outside the walls of Beacon, Jackson would happily take one less foreign power for him and his knights to fight. 

Whatever else he was, high-born noble, lord of the Whittemore estates and lands, even the King’s ward, being a knight was the only part of his life Jackson felt was actually his. He’d gotten his lands and titles by being born to parents he barely remembered. Had been taken in by the King in part due to those same parents’ leal service- after a lifetime at court Jackson wasn’t naïve enough to think that had been the King’s only reason. Supporting an orphan from the Fall made the King look good and restored some of the faith in the crown that had been shaken after the attack. But Jackson had chosen to become a knight. Most noble sons and daughters trained to be able to fight, but hardly any served. They were meant to lead others, not follow. Jackson had wanted to make sure something like the Fall never happened again. And he had earned the rank of captain, working his way up and gaining the respect of the other knights he served with. Whatever else happened, Jackson could always be proud of that at least.

Isaac and Boyd were stationed outside his door. Jackson wasn't the heir to Beacon, but as the King's ward, he still ranked bodyguards, even if they were just other men he served with. Isaac smiled when he saw Jackson.

“Captain.”

"Hey, guys." Jackson clapped one fist to his chest in the standard knight's salute. Boyd and Isaac quickly repeated the gesture back. “When did you take over?”

"We got stationed out here a couple hours ago," Isaac said easily. He frowned a little, studying Jackson. "You good?"

Jackson sighed. “Long day.”

“Day’s not over yet.” Isaac grinned playfully.

Jackson’s gaze flicked between the more animated Isaac and stoic Boyd. The two were actually good friends, though you might not have guessed if you only saw them together on duty. Jackson smiled. “True enough.”

"If you've had a rough time you should relax a little," Isaac said.

"Oh yeah?" Jackson's smile ticked up a little. He knew exactly what Isaac was implying. It wouldn't be the first time the two of them had helped each other relax, and honestly, right now Jackson could use the distraction. He eased the door opened and nodded. "I think I'll take you up on that."

Isaac grinned and smacked Boyd on the back as he stepped inside after Jackson. Boyd shook his head and shifted to stand in front of the door as it closed. Jackson caught the very edge of Boyd’s amused smile as the door closed. Jackson chuckled to himself. Boyd didn’t care about whatever sort of friends with benefits arrangement Jackson might get up to with Isaac. And frankly, Jackson had covered for Boyd and Erica enough times that Boyd couldn’t complain about Isaac helping Jackson blow off a little steam even if Isaac was still technically on duty.

The last of the afternoon sun was filtering through Jackson's window, bathing his room in a soft light. Jackson’s apartment in the castle was made up of three adjoining rooms. First, a solar with a large fireplace not currently in use, three large embroidered settees, and a long table with some chairs. The wall opposite the rooms’ main door led down into a smaller study, where Jackson had a large desk piled high with books and maps. A small balcony came off of the study, looking out onto the city below. Off the other end of the solar was Jackson’s bedroom, the space dominated by a large four-poster wooden bed, the posts carved right into the ceiling and the floor. Silken curtains hung down from each side, blocking a view of the inside of the bed until they were pulled back.

Jackson unbuckled his cloak and tossed it over one of the chairs in his solar. He kept going, unlacing his armor with practiced ease and stacking it carefully by the chair. The sunlight glinted off of it, sending beams of light bouncing all over the walls. Jackson sighed, and pulled off his boots too, finally stopping when he was down to just a loose-fitting tunic and his breeches.

“That bad huh?” Isaac had pulled off his own armor and laid it out neatly across one of Jackson’s settees.

“Bad enough.” Jackson stretched, happy to be free from the restrictive binds of his armor. Most days Jackson didn’t even notice it, but this morning it felt just the slightest bit heavier. Jackson stepped into his bedroom and flung back the curtains on his bed.

“Politics or the King?” Isaac asked knowingly.

“Both.” Jackson laughed and sat down onto his feather bed. “It’s fine. I just could use a distraction.”

Isaac smiled cheekily and walked over to join Jackson, tossing his padded tunic behind him. “I believe that’s what I’m here for Captain.”

Jackson snorted and lay back against the many pillows atop his bed. “Then get over here.”

Isaac leaned over Jackson, pulling Jackson’s tunic off over his head. “As you say, Captain.”

Jackson’s laugh was cut short, as Isaac started attacking Jackson’s chest with his mouth, teasing and biting his way down the planes of Jackson’s muscles. Jackson groaned, leaning back farther to give Isaac more room to work with. Isaac fell to his knees next to Jackson’s bed, his tongue running down the sharp v of Jackson’s Adonis belt. Nimble fingers found the lacings of Jackson’s breeches, and a minute later Isaac was shoving them and Jackson’s undergarments down past his knees.

Jackson's cock was already half-hard. Isaac winked at Jackson before leaning forward and gently licking the sensitive head. Jackson groaned as Isaac slowly laved his cock, running his mouth up and down the shaft before settling back to wrap his lips around the head again.

“You’re too good at this.”

Isaac laughed, letting Jackson’s dick slip out from between his lips. A trail of precum stretched from the shiny head of Jackson’s cock back to Isaac’s lips. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Mm.” Jackson reached down, running his fingers into Isaac’s hair. “Practice does make perfect…”

“So they say.” Isaac chuckled, and lowered his mouth back over Jackson’s cock. Jackson gasped a little threading his fingers through Isaac’s curls. Jackson started moving his hips up to meet Isaac, gently fucking his face. Jackson groaned and closed his eyes as he felt his cock slip down into Isaac's throat. Jackson felt the morning’s tension easing away. He stopped moving his hips and just laid back, enjoying all of Isaac’s efforts.

When Jackson felt himself getting closer he pulled up hard on Isaac’s hair lifting him off of Jackson’s cock. Jackson sat up, kicking his breeches off the rest of the way. He hooked an arm under Isaac’s armpit and pulled him up off his knees. Jackson grinned and patted the bed next to him. “Get up here…”

Isaac kicked off his boots and climbed up. Jackson pushed him back against the pillows, rolling over so he was on top of Isaac, a predatory grin on his face.

"You going to have your way with me, Jackson?" Isaac asked with a grin. 

Jackson smirked. “Unless you complain otherwise.”

Isaac laughed and lifted his hips up so Jackson could make short work of his breeches. "Why would I possibly have to complain?"

Jackson tossed Isaac’s clothes out of the bed, and leaned down over him, balancing his weight on his elbows. He grinned up at Isaac smugly. “No one ever does.”

Isaac grunted as Jackson swallowed him down to the root. Jackson shifted his weight, bringing one of his arms up to pin down across Isaac’s abs, while he wrapped his other hand around the well-toned muscles in Isaac’s thigh. Jackson bobbed his head up and down quickly, keeping his eyes locked up on Isaac’s face. Jackson relished every little noise he pulled out of Isaac and was relentless in his pursuit to get the other knight off.

A shudder ran through Isaac, and Jackson kept him pressed down into the bed. Jackson knew Isaac had to be getting close. Isaac’s cock was like velvet wrapped steel in Jackson’s mouth, jumping in time with Isaac’s racing heartbeat. Jackson’s own cock hung hard and heavy between his legs, but for the moment that wasn’t Jackson’s focus.

“Jacks-“ Isaac stuttered, his whole body tensing up.

Jackson pulled off of Isaac’s dick with a wet pop. He reached down to wrap his hand around Isaac’s shaft, still teasing the sensitive head with his tongue. “Cum for me Isaac.”

Isaac gasped, and a second later his seed was flying out into Jackson’s waiting mouth, a few stray blasts falling back onto Isaac’s chest. Jackson kept stroking Isaac though his orgasm. When Isaac finally stopped cumming and lay breathlessly back on the bed, Jackson swirled his tongue around the overly sensitive head of Isaac’s cock, making Isaac’s whole-body shudder, and milking out a few more drops of semen.

“Gah!" Beads of sweat broke out along Isaac's smooth skin. Not many knights went long without scars, but Isaac was still unblemished. Jackson took it as a personal point of pride, that none of the knights under his direct command had ever been seriously injured. “Too much-“

Jackson let go of Isaac's cock, and it flopped weakly back against Isaac's stomach. As Isaac caught his breath Jackson rubbed small circles into Isaac’s thighs, gently lifting them up higher. Isaac’s hole slowly came into view, like a flower opening up just for Jackson. Jackson reached down, spreading Isaac further, and nipped his way down from Isaac’s inner thigh to his rim.

Isaac laughed. “You’re insatiable.”

“I don’t know about that…” Jackson winked up at Isaac as he pressed down on Isaac’s hole with just his thumb. “I plan on being pretty sated in a couple of minutes.” 

Isaac reached down to wrap his hands around his own knees, holding his legs up for Jackson. “Go for it.”

Jackson grinned wolfishly, and brought his tongue down to Isaac’s hole, flicking the tight muscle with just the tip, and then slowly easing more inside. Isaac sighed contentedly as Jackson worked on opening him up. Jackson smiled to himself and redoubled his efforts. He reached down to a hidden compartment in the frame of his bed and pulled out a small vial of oil. He slicked up two of his fingers, slipping them into Isaac one at a time. Isaac’s cock was twitching a little in interest on Isaac’s stomach, but it was still too soon for him to get completely hard again.

When Jackson felt confident Isaac was ready, he shifted up to his knees on the bed and dragged Isaac's legs up over his shoulders. Jackson dribbled a little more of the oil onto his flushed cock, and rubbed it in, gently stroking himself as he lined his dick up with Isaac’s ass. “You ready?

Isaac nodded, propping himself up a little on his elbows. “Give it to me.”

Jackson pushed forward, slipping just the large flared head of his cock inside Isaac, and then gradually moving a little more as Isaac had time to adjust.

"I said give it to me Jackson," Isaac grunted, his hands fisting into Jackson sheets. "He grinned up at Jackson. "We both know I'm not some blushing virgin."

Jackson laughed and pushed the rest of the way into Isaac. He moaned as he felt his cock finally bottom out. Isaac was still so tight. It didn't matter how many times they'd done this it always felt just as good. Jackson tried to keep his thrusts even at first, aiming for that special spot inside of Isaac. Jackson had seen literal stars the first time someone found his, and when Jackson did something, he did it right. Jackson knew he’d found the right spot when Isaac’s cock jumped, starting to inflate again even so soon after Isaac had cum.

His thrusts started to become more erratic, and Jackson bit his lip, trying to stave off his own impending orgasm. Jackson knew he was getting close, but he was determined to try and get Isaac off a second time first. It almost worked. In the end, Jackson did cum first, slamming his hips into Isaac and completely sheathing his cock into Isaac's ass. Jackson shuddered as his orgasm flooded though him, blasting his load deep inside of Isaac. That seemed to finally push Isaac back over the edge, and Jackson noted with some satisfaction that Isaac's cock dribbled out a few more drops of cum onto his abs.

Jackson was breathing a little hard. He pulled out of Isaac gently and flopped down onto the bed next to him. Isaac chuckled softly, catching his own breath.

“Feeling better?”

“Loads.”

“Really?” Isaac snorted at Jackson’s terrible pun, and Jackson elbowed him softly in the side.

The two of them lay there together for a while, just staring up at the ceiling of Jackson's four-poster bed with an easy, quiet comradery. 

Then the door to Jackson’s rooms banged open.

Jackson immediately sat up in bed cautiously. There were only two people who would ever be able to enter his room like that unannounced, and Jackson really didn’t feel like dealing with one of them right now. It turned out he hadn’t needed to worry. Lydia strolled inside causally, taking in Jackson and Isaac in bed together without batting an eye. She was holding a goblet in her hands and sat down into a chair next to Jackson's bed with all the ease in the world. Jackson made no effort to cover up, after all, it wasn't anything Lydia hadn't seen before. Isaac sat up a little in bed, resting his back up against the headboard, but he seemed likewise unruffle by Lydia's entrance. Jackson supposed Isaac had shared a bed with Jackson and Lydia enough times now that this wasn't a big deal for him.

“If you give us a bit,” Jackson smiled. “You’re welcome to join us for round two. Or really-“ he winked and waggled his eyebrows a little at Isaac. “Round three in Lahey’s case.”

“Hm. Tempting, but not why I’m here.” Lydia’s tone was all business. “Were you aware the King is having dinner with the rulers of Kitsune? A private dinner?”

Jackson hadn’t been, but he wasn’t all that surprised. “You aren’t usually invited to a dinner where you’re one of the subjects that will be discussed."

Lydia rolled her eyes at Jackson. “And you’re not the least bit curious?”

Isaac climbed out of bed and started gathering up his clothes. “I should probably head out…”

Jackson thought about reminding Isaac he was welcome to stay, but he knew Isaac wouldn't feel as comfortable discussing the King and his plans as Lydia or Jackson. Jackson may have been a knight like Isaac, but Isaac was low born. Isaac's parents and his brother had all been knights before him which was how Isaac had climbed up to his position in Jackson's personal unit, but Isaac's mother had been killed in the Fall, and his father had been dismissed from the ranks of the knights not long after. Isaac's father had fallen into a deep depression and had only lived six months after the Fall himself. Isaac had been raised by his older brother Camden, who had tragically been killed in a skirmish outside of Beacon’s walls two years ago. Being a knight meant everything to Isaac as it had to his family, and unlike Lydia or Jackson, Isaac didn't have any real cover if the King's ire were to come down on him, beyond what little Jackson might be able to provide as his captain. Isaac wouldn’t want to risk being privy to any discussions the King might not like, and Jackson completely understood, even if he did wish his friend didn’t carry around the constant worry like a dark cloud.

Isaac dressed quickly, opting to just carry his armor and cloak with him outside. Jackson nodded after him. “See you in the training yard bright and early tomorrow Isaac.”

Isaac smiled and gave Jackson a somewhat mocking salute. Jackson snorted. Lydia watched Isaac leave with a little twinkle in her eye.

“You know if you two were going to get together you could have always summoned me over…”

Jackson chuckled. “It was spur of the moment. Next time I promise.”

“Mm.” Lydia laughed. “I ran into Stilinski in the stables today.”

“Oh yeah?” Jackson grinned. “Did the Spark set anything on fire this time?”

“Only a little straw.” Lydia looked quite pleased with herself. The High Wizard’s apprentice’s massive crush on Lydia was pretty amusing, as was his little uncontrollable response lately whenever he saw Lydia. “But,“ Lydia turned back to the goblet she was still holding in her hands. “Enough about that.” As Jackson watched Lydia muttered a few quiet words and swirled the water. A second later it flashed blue, and ripples ran across it like when a stone was cast into the lake. Voices drifted up out of the water.

“-he’s a charming young man. I’m sure he could make your daughter very happy.”

The voice belonged to the King. All of the palace was heavily warded against magical spying, but small loopholes were there if a wizard was diligent and creative enough. Lydia has devised a way of linking liquids across longer distances and siphoning sounds waves through them. Somewhere, in whatever inner sanctum the king was having his private dinner in, the King’s wineglass would be vibrating in time with the goblet Lydia was holding.

“We’ve discussed about this already.” That was the leader of Kitsune. Her voice was a little more distant, but still easy enough to make out.

“Noshiko please,” King Peter’s voice had a silky quality. “I’m sure we can-“

“ _Celestial_ Noshiko.” Jackson gaped a little when he realized she had interrupted the King. “ _King_ Peter. If we’re going to discuss official business let’s use the proper titles.”

Lydia looked up and met Jackson’s eyes. There was no worry about the King or any of the others overhearing them, the connection only went one way, but neither of them wanted to miss anything. It wasn’t every day you heard the king of Beacon formally rebuked. Jackson could hear the anger in the King’s voice when he spoke again, though he seemed to be trying hard to hide it.

“And what about the terms is unacceptable to you _Celestial_ Noshiko?”

A noise that might have been a snort came through the connection. “The boy is not your proper heir. He will not inherit your crown. And he possesses none of the magic of your people either. Why would I bind daughter- my nation- to such a prospect?”

It was true too. The King didn’t like anyone talking about it, but Jackson didn’t have even a drop of magic. Try as he might he could never summon the power. Not everyone in Beacon could, but it was rare for there to be a deficit in the nobility. And it was just one more way Jackson was less marketable for the King’s plans.

“I told you-“ King Peter was pouring on the charm again. “I would happily include the services of some of the finest mages in any marriage pact.

“So, more foreigners, not bound to our nation in any way could have free reign to learn our secrets?” Celestial Noshiko hadn’t raised her voice at all, but her anger was clear. She knew what King Peter was really after.

The King was singular in his drive to make Beacon more powerful. To prevent another Fall, in a world where Beacon's magic and prosperity were coveted by so many. Kitsune, besides its material wealth, was said to have guardian spirits who protected their rulers and citizens. Jackson knew if that power were real the King would want to have it.

Jackson heard the King sputter for a moment. “If I’ve given any offense-“

“I’m sure nothing was meant by it.” That was Celestial Noshiko’s husband. He’d been silent up till now, but Jackson wasn’t surprised to hear him step in and play the role of peacemaker.

“We will still renew the nonaggression pact.” Celestial Noshiko said more calmly. “But any other deals are off the table-“

Lydia waved her hand back over the goblet and let the magic fall away. “You were right.”

“I could have told you that.” Jackson’s smirk was half-hearted at best. “And I’ll give you one guess who’s fault this will end up being…”

Lydia frowned. “It just doesn’t make any sense. If he wanted a marriage alliance with Kitsune so badly he could have offered himself.”

“To who, the Celestial’s daughter? He’s at least twenty years older than her.”

Lydia shrugged. “You and I both know age doesn’t factor into marriage pacts. For girls especially.”

"Yeah," Jackson snorted. "Well, I think it might when you're negotiating with a girl's _mother_.” Jackson climbed out of bed and reached for his pants. He passed over his padded tunic and grabbed a loose-fitting shirt out of a chest of drawers on the far wall instead.

“What are you doing?” Lydia watched Jackson in amusement. “There’s no need to get dressed on my account.”

“Summons will be coming.” Jackson pulled the shirt down over his head. He wasn’t going to take the time to get back into his armor at this hour. “You know they will. Maybe not as soon as he’s finished dinner, but eventually. You know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Lydia pursed her lips, but she didn’t argue the point.

Jackson settled back onto his bed to wait. The knock finally came an hour later, just as Jackson and Lydia were talking about having food sent up from the palace kitchens for themselves. Jackson sighed and stood up.

“Wait here until I get back and we’ll get something?”

Lydia nodded, waving Jackson off.

A second knock started, but Jackson unlatched the door before it could finish. The King’s personal aide, Jennifer, was standing outside. She was younger than the king by several years at least, but she had served him for as long as Jackson could remember. She had short light brown hair, and eyes that seemed to always be watching. She was wearing all black robes, the King’s personal signet ring displayed prominently on her right hand, giving her the authority to enforce the King's orders and speak on his behalf when needed. Jackson knew she was a mage of some renown. He'd heard stories of her healing burns and other nasty injuries after the Fall. She stared at Jackson impatiently.

“Yes?” Jackson asked, feeling he already knew the answer.

“Lord Whittemore. The King commands your presence.”

Jackson nodded stiffly. “His will is my task.”

Jennifer turned around briskly, clearly intent on leading Jackson to the King, though Jackson felt certain he knew where the King would be waiting. Jackson exchanged brief nods with the knights stationed outside his door. Boyd and Isaac were gone, replaced by a new shift. Jackson followed the King’s aide down several levels of ornate hallways. Sure enough, she led Jackson straight to the throne room.

The torches in the walls outside the throne room had burnt out. There wouldn’t be any more petitioners or formal receptions today. Jackson could see shadows dancing out along the bottom of the door, a sure sign the torches inside were still blazing. He pushed the heavy wooden doors open and stepped inside. The doors slammed shut behind him.

King Peter was on the throne, just like Jackson knew he would be.

Wolf statues ran the length of the courtroom. The flickering firelight made them almost look alive, a silent pack of predators waiting to strike. The largest of them all formed the throne itself. The throne was designed like a seated wolf, its chest, and body forming the actual chair. Above the King's head, the throne's wolf head loomed large, huge rubies gleaming in its eyes. In the reflected flames they matched the King’s eyes almost perfectly.

Jackson dropped to his knee a dozen paces back from the throne, clasping his hand to his chest. He kept his head bowed, looking at the floor and waiting for the King to speak.

“Jackson.”

Jackson looked up. The claws on the King’s right hand were out, scrapping against the ebony metal of the throne. “Uncle.”

“We’re not in public Jackson. I think formal titles are more fitting here.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” It was the same game King Peter had played for years, ever since Jackson was old enough to understand the implications, and the implicit push and pull. Jackson didn’t bother to point out the King had addressed Jackson by his first name and not Lord Whittemore. He was the King. He could do as he pleased.

The King sighed. “Do you know why I called you here?”

“No, your Majesty.” Jackson knew better than to admit his suspicions.

“The kingdom of Kitsune had rejected you as an eligible husband for their daughter.” King Peter growled. “Tell me, why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know your Majesty.”

The King smiled, his fangs showing. “Guess.”

"I am not your heir," Jackson said finally. "Perhaps they wish to seek another match elsewhere."

“Perhaps your efforts today failed to win them over.” The King studied Jackson closely. “Your… behavior… is always a subject of discussion around the court.”

“I’ve done nothing to bring shame on myself or you, Majesty," Jackson said firmly. "And as you said, even such private matters become known. Any offense to the delegation from Kitsune would have come out sooner or later…”

The King snorted. “If you hadn’t fucked half the noble sons and daughters at court maybe they would have found you a better match.”

This too was familiar. The King didn’t care what Jackson got up to in his bedroom until he could use it as an excuse to berate him. Frankly, between the two of them, the court was happier with Jackson's sex life than the King's. It had been eight years since the Fall. Seven, since King Peter's official coronation. In all that time Beacon had been without an heir to the throne. The succession, should anything happen to the King, was a nightmare. It was impossible for anyone without the gift to assume the throne in Beacon, and for the last eight years, King Peter had been the only citizen of Beacon blessed with it. Various noblewomen and some merchants of standing had attempted to make their way into the King’s bed, as much to secure an heir for the kingdom as their own power. So far as Jackson knew, they had all failed, and if any had been successful, they had nothing to show for it. Jackson grit his teeth. “Is my libido a problem my king?”

The King rolled his eyes. “Your relationships with the noble houses complicate things. You’re far too close to Lady Martin, not to mention the Steiner twins…”

Jackson said nothing. The Martins and the Steiners were arguably the most powerful houses in Beacon. Jackson’s own house of Whittemore had once ranked among them, but now it was reduced to just Jackson and an empty estate. Jackson waited, unsure what the King was getting at. Jackson knew full well why the Yukimuras had turned down the King’s offer. He’d heard the Celestial say it herself.

“I suppose your failure can’t be helped.” King Peter sighed heavily. “As you said, you are not my heir.”

“No your majesty.” But he was the closest the King had.

The King waved for Jackson to stand up. “The Yukimuras will be leaving tomorrow. Make sure all of the security is properly in place for the departure ceremony.”

“Of course your Majesty.”

“You may go.”

Jackson bowed one final time and retreated back the way he’d come. There were other exits behind the throne that would give Jackson a more direct path back to his rooms, but whatever reason the King had called him down it was clear the King was in an imperious mood. Jackson took the long way.

***

The palace kitchens were just as incredible as Scott imagined. Stiles had made good on his promise to get Scott inside, and Scott watched in awe as a whole staff of cooks and apprentices hurried around preparing the evening meal. There were rows of ovens being tended, a larder more than twice the size of the entire downstairs in Scott's house, and counters everywhere where cooks were chopping, slicing, and whisking.

“Out of the way!” One of the older chefs, a portly man with graying hair, barreled past Scott and Stiles with two huge domed silver platters. Whatever was under them smelled delicious and set Scott’s mouth to watering. The cook hailed over one of the younger boys and loaded the platters into his arms. “Take these up to Lord Whittemore’s rooms. Be quick about it, and for the sake of your own neck make sure you don’t drop any of it!”

The boy nodded urgently and took off with the food. Scott watched him go, his stomach growling.

“What do you think was under there?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know.” Stiles licked his lips. “A roast of some kind? Smelled amazing. It pays to be the King’s ward I guess.”

“Oy!” A woman with curly black hair stalked over towards Scott and Stiles. She tapped the largest wooden spoon Scott had ever seen against her hip. “What are you two doing getting under everybody’s feet while we’re working huh? You know the drill,“ She jerked her head at Stiles. “If you want something to eat take what’s on the table in the back or get out.”

Stiles grinned. “We got it Mrs. Stokeworth.”

"Well go on then!" She smacked Stiles' leg with her spoon as they walked past her. "Out of my kitchen." 

“She likes me.” Stiles winked at Scott and led him over to a battered wooden table set up next to a junction with the servants’ hallways. The table was charred in spots and had cuts in it from what looked like years of knives sawing away on top of it, but it looked solid. Stiles plopped himself down into one of the seats and pulled the large metal pot in the middle of the table towards him cautiously. There were some old wooden bowls next to the pot, and Stiles picked one up ladling what looked like a hearty beef stew into it.

“They make this for the servants?” Scott asked. He couldn’t fathom being wealthy enough to make food just for anyone who might get hungry and leaving it out for them. Scott picked up a bowl for himself.

“The meat and vegetables are probably just whatever was leftover from the lords' meals mashed together," Stiles said. "Mrs. Stokeworth does make a great broth for it all though.” Stiles took a spoonful of stew and groaned happily, dribbling a little down onto the table.

Scott spooned up some of his own bowl. Stiles was right, the stew was thick and rich. Scott took Stiles word about the providence of the meat and vegetables, but leftovers or not they’d been prepared incredibly well. Scott swallowed and grinned across the table at his friend. "You weren't kidding."

“I’m always serious when it comes to food.” Stiles chuckled, then looked over his shoulder and grabbed something off a nearby shelf. “Here.”

It was a big loaf of dark rye bread, nothing like the rich, sugary sweet, white breads Scott had seen the cooks preparing for the nobles. Stiles tore the loaf in half and passed a piece over to Scott. The bread was still was warm. Scott sighed contently as he bit into it. Stiles ripped off a hunk of his own bread and dunked it into his stew. Scott broke his piece in half and wrapped one half up to save for later. He couldn’t exactly bring stew home to his mother, but she might like to try a little of the bread.

“They’ve got fruit too.” Stiles took a couple apples off the shelf and tossed one to Scott.

“We’re really allowed to have all this?” Scott asked incredulously.

Stiles nodded. “I told you perks of working in the palace. “It’s just one of the reasons people work so hard to get positions here and stay in good with the rest of the staff.”

“I don’t think I can ever thank you enough for getting me this job Stiles.” Scott knew there had to be grooms out there with way more experience than him, and yet somehow thanks to Stiles here Scott was getting this shot.

“I told you man no thanks needed.” Stiles smiled proudly. “You deserve to be here Scott and making sure you got that chance is just the kind of things best friends are for.”

Scott nodded and hefted the apple in his hand. He thought about Stiles' point about staying in good with other people in the castle and smiled. Scott used the edge of his spoon to crudely slice away a couple of pieces of apple. Stiles frowned, watching him.

“You don’t want it?”

"I think I know somebody else who'll want it more." Scott grinned and stood up. ‘I’m gonna swing by the stables again. I’ll catch you for the walk home?”

"Yeah sure," Stiles smirked. "But if you leave now I’m stealing the rest of your soup.”

Scott shook his head, and picked up his bowl, quickly drinking down the rest of the broth. It wasn’t the most elegant thing to do, Scott’s own mother wouldn’t have approved if he’d done it while he was eating with her, but here in the back of the kitchens, at a table for servants, Scott doubted anyone would care. Scott laughed and flashed his empty bowl to Stiles. “All gone now.”

Stiles chuckled and took another big bite of bread. Scott clapped him on the shoulder and stepped out into the servant’s hallway. “I’ll see you later man.”

The servant corridors were a little darker at nighttime like the rest of the palace, but there were still regular torches lit every five or ten feet. Ironically Scott saw more torches lit here than in one of the main hallways Stiles had taken Scott through earlier to initially get to the kitchens. Scott supposed that the fact it was the servants who would be running through these halls explained it. It wouldn’t be very likely for a member of the court or the King to bother heading out of their rooms themselves at night, not when they could have servants get them whatever they needed. The torches in the servant corridors probably burned all night in case of a sudden summons.

Navigating his way back to the stables by himself would be Scott’s first real test, but thankfully Stiles had made sure Scott knew the symbol for the stables at least. Scott managed to find his way without any wrong turns. The courtyard looked different at night. The knights sparring were all gone now, and the hustle and bustle Scott had seen on display earlier had settled into a quiet calm. The gate was still open, but there wouldn't be much traffic through it at this time of night. There were more guards standing around by it, and from the looks of things, Scott figured they might be getting ready to close it up soon.

Scott made his way across the yard to the stables. No one stopped to question him, though Scott felt a little burst of pride knowing he would be fine even if they did. Danny had given Scott a necklace, not unlike Stiles’, but instead of the High Wizard’s crest of office it had a simple horseshoe as the pendant. Still, the necklace would get Scott through the city’s gates, and denoted him as an official member of the palace staff. Scott had it tucked under his shirt, the cool metal brushing against his skin a constant reminder of just how lucky he’d gotten.

The stables were dark. The straw inside was too much of a fire hazard for torches, but there were a few smaller and more contained lanterns that could be lit by the doors. Scott picked one up, carefully flicking it on. The enchanted stone flared to life, steady golden light shining out. Scott knew magical items like this could be pretty expensive, but that wouldn’t be a problem for the palace or the King. Scott wandered deeper into the stables, the lantern cutting through the darkness and revealing the horses one by one, their eyes wide and bright in the reflected light. Scott retraced his steps down to Alpha’s pen carefully. Scott didn’t feel confident enough to go inside with the huge warhorse by himself just yet, but he pulled out one of the apple pieces from his pocket and offered it out to him. Alpha eyed it curiously.

"Yeah," Scott said softly as Alpha stepped forward to take a bite. "It's me again. You and I are going to be good friends…" Scott pulled a second piece of apple from his pocket which Alpha happily ate too. 

Another lantern bobbed into view down the hall, freezing when whoever was carrying it caught sight of Scott.

“Who’s there?” A commanding voice barked.

With the difference in light, Scott could only make out a vague silhouette of his questioner. He handed the final piece of apple he'd saved over to Alpha and patted the horse's nose fondly. Then he stepped carefully back from the pen, raising his hands so they could be clearly seen. The last thing Scott wanted was to be blasted by a spell or attacked with a sword over a simple misunderstanding.

The other lantern got closer, and the shape of the person holding it resolved into someone Scott recognized. Scott’s jaw dropped, and he gaped trying desperately to think of whether he should bow or not. What was the proper protocol here?

“P-princess Kira.” Scott stammered, and deciding it would be better to err on the side of caution, sank into a quick bow. “I’m sorry if I startled you…”

Kira eyed Scott curiously. “You’re a groom?”

Scott nodded hastily, pulling out his necklace and showing her the horseshoe shape. “Yes.”

Kira frowned. “A bit late to be working out here isn’t it?”

“Apologizes my Lady,” Scott said quickly. “I’m still new I was just trying to get to know the horses better-“

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” Kira waved him off. “And please just call me Kira. We seem to be alone, and I tire of the prenotions of titles here.”

“Of-of course.” Scott stumbled over the words. Kira was wearing a full-length dress that looked like it belonged in the royal ballroom, not the stables. The silk was a creamy white, but silver jewels were embroidered onto the front of it in intricate patterns and lines, so the whole dress seemed to sparkle in the light from the two lanterns. Scott frowned. “Why are you here by yourself?” He winced as soon as he’d said it, Kira had told him to address her informally, but that might have been crossing the line.

Instead, Kira smiled. “I can take care of myself.” She nodded to a stall a few further down from Alpha's and walked over to it. “I wanted to check on Foxfire before we left tomorrow.”

Scott followed her over and marveled at how different the horse looked from the breeds he'd seen before in Beacon. The horse was shorter and less muscular than most of the horses in Beacon, but Scott knew the Kitsune horses were supposed to be famed for their endurance. They might not pack quite as much power or speed, but they could travel farther in a single day than any Beacon horse could ever hope to. Kira's horse was a white that nearly matched her dress. The horse’s tail and mane were a gray that almost bordered on blue, giving the whole animal something of an ethereal feel. Scott watched, as Kira held out her hand and the horse came immediately trotting over to nuzzle against her.

“You have a beautiful horse.”

Kira smiled at Scott. “I’ve helped raise her since she was a foal.”

Scott knew Kitsune must do things a little differently. He couldn’t imagine many of the nobles in Beacon taking the time to raise their own horses, in part because so many of the nobles kept full stables all their own just like the King. Scott watched as Kira raised the bar on her horse’s stall and slipped inside the pen. Kira picked up a brush and started running it along Foxfire’s coat with as much skill as most grooms Scott had seen. The heir to Kitsune didn’t seem to spare a thought that she was getting horsehair onto such a nice dress.

“So uh, how have you liked Beacon?” Scott asked. Scott had never had a one on one conversation with any of the nobles in Beacon like this, but Kira didn’t seem to mind, and Scott didn’t want to come off as rude by leaving or ignoring her. Besides, even if Kira knew her way around a stable, she might still need some kind of assistance. Kira was silent for a moment, and Scott worried again that he might have overstepped.

"It's been interesting," Kira said slowly. “It wasn’t all how I expected it to be.”

Scott wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but he got the impression this time at least that he wasn’t supposed to ask.

Kira stopped brushing her horse, and bent down for a second, looking at Foxfire’s hooves. She frowned, and tapped the horse on the leg gently, prompting it to lift up its left front leg. Kira put the brush back on the wall and stooped to examine the hoof.

"I think this shoe is coming a little loose," Kira said seriously. She let the horse put its foot back down and slipped out of the stall. “Would you mind fixing it for me?” Kira gestured down to her gown a little guiltily. “I should probably be getting back.”

“Of course!” Scott smiled eagerly. He’d love the chance to see the Kitsune horse up close. “I’d be happy to Princess Kira. It’s my job after all!”

Scott had meant it as a joke, but something in Kira’s face shifted. She pressed her lips together. “Yes, I suppose it is…”

“Or if you want to send out one of your own people to see to it that’s fine too.” Scott hastened to add. He didn’t want to seem too presumptuous. Visiting royals always came with huge flocks of their own servants and attendants. Scott didn’t want to step on any toes, although now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen any grooms from Kitsune earlier…

“It’s fine.” Kira smiled. “I mean, I would appreciate it if you could do it. If not I can see to it in the morning…”

"No, no!" Scott shook his head quickly. "I've got it. Uh, feel free to head back to…" Scott ran his eyes over her dress again, unsure what kind of function would even call for something so lavish. "Well, whatever it is you need to do."

“Thank you.” Kira took a step back and smiled again.

Scott grinned, watching her leave. Stiles would never believe Scott when he told him about this.

***

Scott got up early the next morning to see the delegation from Kitsune off. From the bustle of the streets, Scott knew he wasn't alone in that thought. Even his mother set aside her morning work to tag along with Scott. They met up with Stiles at the gate to the lower ring. Together the three of them made their way down to the water’s edge, careful to avoid any of the seedier parts of the lower city. A large crowd had started to gather at the foot of the King’s Road, but Stiles managed to push his way through and get himself and the McCalls close to the front. Knights of the realm had established a perimeter, their bright red capes flapping in the morning breeze. A small platform stage had been set up near the edge of the lake, and behind it, one of the massive ferries the people of Beacon used to get back and forth across the lake was being loaded up by the various aides and advisors to the Kitsune delegation. Scott didn’t see any sign of King Peter or the visiting royals from Kitsune yet though.

"I still can't believe you met the Princess," Stiles said shaking his head. "You have the craziest luck sometimes man."

Scott smiled. “I know…” Scott nodded towards the water’s edge. “What do you think the stage is for?” He asked. “They aren’t signing the treaty, now are they?”

“Nah, they probably hashed that all out earlier behind closed doors.” Stiles frowned. “I bet it’s just going to be for some kind of sendoff ceremony.” Stiles grinned and nodded to the crowd growing even bigger all around them. “The King knows how to use a gathering like this.”

“It’s good for the people too," Melissa said warmly. "People like to see the King."

Scott nodded a little absently. He wondered if he’d be able to spot Kira again. If she was with her parents and the King it shouldn’t be hard. Then again, maybe she was already on the ferry overseeing the loading.

A trumpet sounded suddenly, and almost as one, the crowd turned towards the King’s Road. Scott could hear the King and the others before he saw them, the hoofbeats of their horses pounding loudly on the tightly packed cobblestones. Scott counted five riders when they finally came into view. As they grew closer Scott picked out the King in front, followed closely by Jackson Whittemore, and behind them came the Yukimuras. Scott noted Kira was riding Foxfire.

The crowd erupted into cheers, people clapping and shouting for their King. Scott readily joined in, smiling as Princess Kira rode past him even though he knew she couldn't possibly see him. The King waved out at the crowd graciously, riding around the perimeter the knights had blocked off. The Yukimuras climbed off of their horses and passed the reins over to waiting aides. Scott saw Jackson Whittemore slid off his horse too, handing it over to one of the knights on the perimeter. The four of them climbed up to opposite sides of the platform, Jackson on one end, Kira and her parents on the other. Scott noticed Kira’s mother had a case of some sort in her hands, something she’d taken from the bags on her horse.

The King did one final circle of the crowd, before standing up and jumping off his horse while it was still in motion. Scott gasped with the rest of the crowd as the King landed nimbly on the stage, his superior werewolf strength and dexterity letting him easily clear the distance. The crowd cheered again, screaming and shouting at their King’s display.

“What do you think?” Stiles leaned over to whisper in Scott’s ear, though with the crowd as loud as it was his volume was closer to his normal speaking voice. “How many times did he need to practice that to be able to hit it right?”

Scott snorted. “C’mon, that was pretty impressive.”

“I know.” Stiles grinned. “I’m just saying it would have been a lot less so if he’d tripped.”

Melissa smacked Stiles good-naturedly. "That's the King you're talking about Stiles. Have some respect."

Stiles laughed, rubbing the back of his head where Melissa had hit him. “Yes ma’am.

"Hey, how come your dad's not out there?" Scott nodded to the ring of knights.

“Too important I guess.” Stiles shrugged. “The King wanted his knights to handle this personally.”

“Thank you!” The King’s voice suddenly boomed out across the crowd. Scott looked back to the stage and saw a wizard standing by the King just below the stage, magically amplifying his voice. "Thank you all very much. Over the last week, we've had the great honor of housing our visiting friends from the east, and I'm pleased to say today that while they may be returning home, our spirit of friendship and cooperation will continue on."

Scott clapped with the rest of the crowd.

“As a special parting gift-“ The King took a half step back and motioned Jackson to step forward. “We present them with these special fire crystals, enchanted by the finest wizards of our great city.”

Scott watched as Jackson handed over a box filled with at least a dozen of the magical stones in it. Even in Beacon where magic was commonplace that represented a sizeable fortune. The crystals were used in everything from lanterns to ovens, and once enchanted would absorb ambient energy and convert it into heat and light forever as long as the crystals weren’t damaged somehow.

Kira’s father stepped forward to take the stones from Jackson and nodded their thanks. They would probably be the only ones in all of Kitsune. In answer, Kira’s mother stepped up next to the King and smiled.

“And I thank you for your most generous gift.” The wizard boosted the volume of her voice too. Kira’s mother inclined her head just barely to King Peter, not a bow, but a nod of respect from one ruler to another. “Please accept these as my thanks, and a symbol of the growing friendship our two countries have.” She held the case out to Peter. “These are cherry saplings from my own garden. Each year the beautiful cherry blossoms adorn our city, and I would like to be able to share that with you.”

The King nodded his thanks, and the crowd clapped again. Someone in the crowd pushed past Scott and Stiles trying to get a better view.

“Rude much?” Stiles rolled his eyes, then turned back to the stage.

Scott spared the man a passing glance. The glint of sunlight on metal made him turn back. The man had a small crossbow tucked up under his cloak.

“HEY!” Scott shouted, trying to get the attention of the nearest knight, but his voice got lost in the crowd. Scott watched in horror as the man raised his crossbow.

Scott didn't take another second to question it, he launched himself forward, tackling the man, and careening past the row of knights. Shouts went up from the crowd and the knights. Scott caught motion on the stage out of the corner of his eye, but all of his attention was still on the would-be assassin. The man had pulled himself to his feet and was trying to aim again. Strength Scott didn't know he had rushed through him. Scott was back on his feet in an instant. He grabbed for the man. The man's face was half-hidden under the hood of his cloak but Scott saw him take a step back in shock.

The crossbow collided with Scott’s hand, and somehow snapped into two pieces. Scott stared at him in shock as the man pulled a small dagger out from his sleeve. But something had changed. Rather than trying to charge Scott, or any of the knights quickly trying to encircle him, the man made a break for it, forcing his way back into the crowd, which was breaking apart in all directions now as people realized what was happening.

“FIND THAT MAN!” The King howled at the top of his lungs, his voice still being amplified by the wizard. Something in Scott seemed to stir in response.

The crowd was falling silent as the knights chased off after the man. Scott saw someone point at him and gasp. Then suddenly more and more people were turning to look at him. Scott frowned, adrenaline still pumping through his head. Was he hurt? Scott looked down at his hand where it had hit the crossbow. Had the crossbow gone off?

Scott froze. His hand had claws sprouting from it. _He_ had claws.

Melissa stumbled forward, a hand to her mouth in shock. “Scott… your eyes…”

“What about my eyes?” Scott asked.

“They’re yellow.”

Yellow? Scott frowned. What did she-

Then Scott gasped, as his mother fell to her knees in front of him. One by one other people in the crowd started to follow suit. Even Stiles was bowing. Scott looked around in utter confusion. The few remaining knights were starting to kneel now too. Scott turned to the stage, desperate for some sense of order, some explanation for what was happening…

The King was staring down right at Scott, his eyes blazing red, with a strange expression on his face. When he finally spoke, Scott’s whole world shifted on its axis.

“Hail to the heir…”


	2. Chapter 2

“Look out!”

Two of the hunters fell to the ground. Allison rolled to the side as a shadow dove over her and into the underbrush. She kept her arrow nocked, but let the bowstring go slack as she chased the creature deeper into the woods. Low hanging tree branches and thick ground cover whipped at her as she ran, but Allison powered though, ducking and dodging, and ignoring the small cuts to her fingers when the thorns of a particularly large bush slammed into her. Shafts of pale moonlight filtered down through the leaves of the trees, just barely letting Allison keep the nightmare in her sights. Allison could hear running behind her and knew without having to look that some of her team was following her.

There was a small clearing up ahead. An ancient oak tree had rotted out near the bottom of its trunk and fallen to the ground, flattening most of the surrounding vegetation. The gap in the canopy let more light down to the forest floor, and Allison got a better look at their quarry.

The nightmare was a strange creature, almost horse-like in its proportions. Its skin was black as night, and strange shadows seemed to flick around it like amorphous limbs. Its eyes lacked any discernible pupil, the bright white standing out in a sharp contrast with the rest of its head. The creature's mouth was open, and long white fangs that looked too big to easily fit inside its jaw were poking out. The nightmare snarled, a strange musical quality to it that sent a shiver down Allison’s spine.

Allison didn’t waste any time. She pulled the string on her bow back to her ear and took careful aim. As soon as she was sure of the shot, she let the arrow fly. Her arrow shot across the clearing, the white fletching feathers seeming to flash briefly in the darkness as they passed under the moonlight. The arrow should have taken the nightmare right through its heart. The creature looked at Allison, tilting its head in an almost human-like gesture. At the last possible second the creature seemed to blur, and take on the same ethereal, amorphous look as the shadows around it. Allison’s arrow passed right through it and embedded itself in a tree some distance behind the nightmare with a soft thunk. The nightmare opened its mouth again and seemed to almost smile at Allison.

Branches crashed behind Allison, and Theo burst from the underbrush, dagger in hand. He had half a dozen more strapped down around his body, ready to go at a moment’s notice. Liam was right behind him, swinging his machete. Liam was using it to cut a quicker path through the woods, but Allison knew he was just as skilled with it in a fight. There was no sign of any of the others.

“Did we lose anyone back there?” Allison asked, careful to keep the creature in her sights.

Theo grimaced. “Belasko got cocky and caught some teeth for it. He should be okay if we can get him back quickly. Malia got her bell rung, but she’ll be okay.”

Allison nodded. “Corey?”

"Haven't seen him." Theo stepped forward so he was in front of Allison and started to circle around, trying to split the creature's focus. Liam meanwhile, had taken up a position on Allison’s right flank, ready to cover her if the creature charged.

Allison took stock of the situation. Just the three of them against the nightmare. Four if Corey showed. No sign of him wasn't that uncommon. Like the rest of them Corey had practically grown up in these forests and he could move through them without drawing any attention from man or beast. Still, even with Corey, just four of them against a fully-grown nightmare wouldn’t be easy. And if Theo was right about Belasko they were on a time crunch too. They needed to figure out a way to take this thing down fast.

Theo was now around on the monster’s side, forming an almost ninety-degree angle with it and Allison. The nightmare was getting restless. It couldn’t easily keep both Allison and Theo in its sights now, so its head was darting back and forth. It snarled again, the strange sound echoing out among the trees. The nightmare lowered its head to an angle no real horse could ever achieve and barred its fangs.

"Careful!" Liam adjusted the grip on his machete a little. "It's getting ready to-“

Liam never got the opportunity to finish his sentence. The nightmare, apparently deciding Allison was the biggest threat since she’d already shot at it once, charged. It barreled down towards her and Liam. Allison let another arrow fly, and while this one did connect, it only glanced off the nightmare’s side, barely even drawing blood. The nightmare might not be able to become intangible while it was moving, but it was fast enough that it hardly mattered. It was on them before Allison could even nock another arrow. Liam raced to meet it, slashing out at it with his machete, and trying to give Allison the room she needed to ready another shot.

Theo yelled, and jumped at the nightmare from behind. The nightmare became shadow again, making Theo fall through its back, but also causing its fangs to pass harmlessly through Liam's arm. Theo landed hard in the dirt and rolled quickly aside before the nightmare could solidify again and trample him.

When the nightmare turned to try and bite Theo, Allison let her third arrow fly, aiming right for the creature’s eerie eye. The nightmare barely twitched, letting the arrow sail harmlessly through it. Theo ducked to avoid it as it came out the other side of the creature's head. Allison moved away, scrambling over the rotting remains of the old oak tree to put some more distance between her and the nightmare. Theo and Liam followed her lead, backing away from the creature slowly. The nightmare seemed to give Allison another one of its foul smiles.

“Any ideas?” Theo asked.

“It can’t move and do that shadow thing at the same time.” Liam offered a little breathlessly.

Theo cocked his eyebrows skeptically. “We think that or we know that?”

“Liam’s right.” Allison’s own breath was a little short too. “When it becomes unsubstantial like that, it won’t have any mass to push off against the forest floor with.”

“Okay…” Theo frowned. “So, our options are basically shadowboxing with something we can’t hit, or trying to make contact with it when it’s moving so fast that’s nearly impossible?”

Liam managed a small smile. “Seems like it.”

“Great.” Theo smiled sarcastically. “I was worried this wouldn’t be a challenge.”

The nightmare charged at them again, and they scattered. But the nightmare was just too fast. Even as he dashed away Liam was clipped by one of the nightmare’s hooves and sent stumbling down.

Allison saw Theo’s face darken.

“Maybe there’s a third option.” Theo lowered his head and rushed towards the nightmare.

“Theo wait!” Allison shouted. She fired another arrow that went wide as the nightmare turned at the last second to meet Theo.

Theo didn’t even try and dodge. The nightmare lunged down for him and Theo lifted up his left arm to shield his face, letting the nightmare bite down on it hard. Theo screamed through gritted teeth, and Allison could already see blood starting to run down over the leathers on his arm.

“Shoot it!” Theo brought a dagger up with his right hand and embedded it deep into the nightmare’s neck.

Allison suddenly realized Theo’s dangerous plan, as long as the nightmare had its teeth stuck in Theo’s arm it had to stay solid. Allison let two arrows loose, one aimed at the beast’s heart and the other its eye. Both struck home, and the nightmare let go of Theo, throwing its head back in agony. It roared again, louder this time, and turned back to Allison, blood dripping down its bright white teeth. The arrows had clearly hurt it, Allison could tell that much from even the nightmares small pivot towards her. But they didn’t seem to be enough to take it down. Allison saw blood wasn’t even flowing from where Theo’s dagger was still stuck in its neck. It had to have incredibly thick skin. Allison grabbed another arrow from her quiver and quickly slotted it to her bow. If she were quick enough, she might be able to hit the nightmare’s other eye when it charged. If Allison could possibly blind it, she might buy them enough time to regroup. Allison fired.

The nightmare twisted its head at the last possible second like it understood what Allison had intended. Allison knew she wouldn't have time to line up another shot. Allison slipped her bow over her shoulder even as she ran, moving away from Liam and Theo to give them a little more time. Liam was struggling back to his feet. He must have been hit harder than Allison thought. Theo was still bleeding heavily from his left arm, but he had pulled another dagger from his belt. Half-blind, and in a mad fury, the nightmare apparently decided he was the easiest target. Allison grabbed a knife from her own belt. A dried black crust glinted along the edge of the blade when it caught the moonlight. Allison never liked to risk poisoning her arrowheads, in the chaos of a fight it was too easy for something to go wrong, but a knife like this was a safer bet.

Allison barely made it to the creature before it got to Theo. The wounds from Allison’s arrows must be slowing it down more than she thought. Allison didn’t have a good angle of attack, but with the belladonna coating her knife it hardly mattered. She jammed the knife deep into the nightmare’s flank. The resistance was incredible, but Allison finally managed to push the blade in all the way to the hilt. Theo stabbed out at the nightmare’s head, scoring another small cut on it. Allison pulled back alongside Theo as the nightmare started to stumble a little. The poison was clearly working, but in a creature as big as the nightmare was it might take a little while to fully affect it. Plus, Allison didn’t know what other evolutionary quirks the nightmare might be hiding. She knew if they were able to when this was all over they should haul its body back to the city for further study.

A rustling behind Allison made her turn around, and she was relieved to see Malia picking her way through the underbrush. There were leaves clumped together in her hair, and she was using her heavy battle-ax as a sort of crutch, but she looked otherwise unharmed. She nodded to Allison.

“Belasko?” Allison asked.

Malia shook her head. “Dead.” She jerked her head to the stumbling nightmare. “Bastard must have hit an artery.”

"Damn it," Allison swore. The nightmare fell to its knees and Allison allowed herself to relax just a little more. "We'll need to get his body before we go back. I'm not leaving it out here as food for these monsters."

Malia nodded and hefted her ax. She had a dark look in her eyes. Malia lunged forward, still a little unsteady on her feet, and chopped her ax down onto the nightmare's neck. Allison's poison must have been interfering with its ability to phase itself, because the ax head bit deep, sending up gouts of blood all over Malia. Malia wrenched it out a moment later, sending more blood splattering up as the ax tore its way free. Malia smiled grimly and wiped some of the blood off her face. “That’s for Belasko…”

The nightmare let out one more, almost pitiful roar, its eyes already starting to cloud over. Only this time another roar answered it. A second nightmare came barreling through the trees from deeper into the forest. This one was a little smaller than the first, but in their current state Allison wasn’t sure how much that would matter. The second nightmare took one look at the dying body of the first and charged towards Allison and her hunters.

A heavy net came crashing down onto it, driving it into the ground and tripping it up. A moment later Corey swung down from the tree branches overhead, gasping for breath.

“Sorry-“ Corey wheezed out. "There's a whole herd of these things out there… they all perked up when this one started roaring." Corey motioned towards the dead nightmare. "I tried to lead the rest of them away-“

The nightmare under the net shifted, shadows seeming to ripple around it as it phased itself up out of the net. Allison didn't hesitate, she reached down for her knife and ripped it from the dead nightmare's body. The second nightmare wouldn't be able to charge them until it was clear of the net, but that meant Allison had only seconds to spare. She rushed forward to meet the nightmare. It reared up, casting a deep shadow over Allison as it prepared to stomp her to death. Allison stabbed out. The nightmare resolidified to try and crush Allison, and Allison's knife stuck its now very solid heart. The nightmare shuddered. It had been a bit of a gamble on Allison's part. She knew she wouldn't have much room to spare so she'd preemptively placed her knife where the beast's heart would be while it was still intangible, hoping that when the nightmare solidified the knife would find its mark. Delivered straight to the heart the belladonna worked much faster, and the nightmare collapsed, breathing hard as the deadly toxin took effect. 

Allison allowed herself a moment to catch her breath. Corey was already respooling his net with a practiced hand. Malia was glaring at the second nightmare, ax at the ready just in case. Liam had made his way over to Theo and was fussing over his arm.

“I’m fine.” Theo insisted, even though Allison could see the tension in his body from here, and knew he must be in pain. “It’s already healing. See?” Theo pulled back his tattered leathers to give Liam a clear view of his arm. Sure enough, the bleeding was slowing down, and the veins in Theo’s arm had taken on a familiar black color.

“You need to stop taking such stupid risks.” Liam huffed. He’d calmed down a little when he saw Theo’s skin, but Allison didn’t miss the tenderness with which he was still holding Theo’s injured arm.

Corey finished winding up his net and frowned. “Belasko?”

Allison shook her head.

Corey nodded grimly.

“We should take these things back to Gevaudan.” Malia poked one of the corpses with the handle of her ax.

Allison knew how valuable they might be, helping to inform all of the city’s hunting parties. She frowned. “How big is the herd?”

“About a dozen or more.” Corey shrugged. “I couldn’t get a better count than that, they were all moving too much.”

Allison winced. Potentially two dozen more of these things out there then. That was rule one of hunting, for every beast you saw assume another you didn’t see was out there. And they’d been lucky to take down just these two. It was a decent trek back to Gevaudan yet. The last thing Allison needed was more of these things attacking them as they hauled the bodies back to the city. Plus they still needed to recover Belasko’s body too. She shook her head. There was no helping it. “Take everything you can and leave the rest here. We can’t afford to linger. Corey, make a note of where you saw the herd and see if you can at least get a quick sketch of these things done.” Nightmares weren’t unknown to the hunters of Gevaudan, but it had been years since they’d had a sighting, and these two had seemed stronger and faster than the beasts the records described.

Corey immediately pulled out rolls of parchment. One, Allison knew was the map he kept of the forest surrounding the city. The monsters in the forest were always on the move, and it was imperative that they be able to keep as much of a tab on them as possible. Corey was the scout in Allison’s hunting party, usually heading out ahead of the rest of them to get the lay of the land and help direct them where they needed to go, although he could hold his own in a fight when he needed to.

Theo, Malia, and Liam all pulled out small knives and set about harvesting as many pieces of the nightmares as they could. Allison pulled her knife out of the second nightmare and moved to join them. Magical beasts like this were full of raw power that didn’t just disappear when the creature died. For weeks, and sometimes even months after the creature was killed small pieces of its power remained. Harvested quickly, a magical beast could provide dozens of talismans, pieces of its body hunters could wear to give a little boost to their own strength, speed, or stamina. They served as a badge of honor too, and many hunters kept certain special talismans as good luck charms even after the power had faded away. They wouldn’t have time to properly butcher and harvest every usable piece of the nightmares, but Allison saw her team grabbing anything they could easily carry, hair from the mane and the tail, the pearly white eyes, a couple of fangs. Malia even went as far as chopping off one of the larger nightmare’s hoofs with her ax.

They worked quickly. The other nightmares were still out there, and Allison knew there were plenty of other monsters in the woods who might be attracted to all of the fresh blood being spilled. Allison shoved the last pieces of the nightmare she had grabbed into her bag and whipped the blood off her hands on the tramped down grass in the clearing. Malia and the others were just finishing up too. Allison watched Theo store another fang into his bag, the black veins in his arm standing out sharply against his skin. Talismans were one thing, but what Theo had… that was something else.

“Let’s move.” Allison stood up. “Corey?”

Corey nodded, stowing his papers back in his pack. “Good enough.”

"Alright," Allison said firmly. "Malia, you take point. Corey, find us a clear path back to the new wall."

"You got it, boss." Corey pulled a hook from his belt and shimmied up one of the trees. He hopped neatly between branches, quietly slipping off back towards the city. 

Malia spun her ax once and started leading the group back along the path she’d taken to the clearing. They’d traveled farther than Allison had thought chasing after the damned nightmare. Finally, Allison spotted a tree she recognized, and Malia led them all over to Belasko. His body was slumped down against the base of the tree's trunk like he'd only stopped for a moment to catch his breath. His eyes were still open, staring lifelessly up at the little stretch of sky visible between the leaves of the trees overhead. One of his hands was clasped tight around his necklace, the talons he’d been so proud to take from the garuda they’d killed almost a year ago now. The power of the talons had long since faded, but Belasko had still worn them fondly. Allison bent down over Belasko’s body. If it weren’t for the blood, and his lightly shocked expression he would have looked almost at peace…

Allison reached out to gently close his eyes. “Rest easy now.”

Between the four of them, they had enough scraps of leather and cloth to at least partially wrap up his body. Liam and Theo elected to carry him, Theo carefully supporting his head while Liam picked up his feet. These they lashed together with a bit of rope to make lifting him easier. It wasn't the most dignified treatment for their friend but needs trumped wants, and it would make him easier to carry back to Gevaudan. Allison and the others would make sure he had a proper sendoff there.

Corey came back a few minutes later, the beginnings of a path worked out. He bowed his head respectfully towards Belasko’s body.

"Okay," Allison said when Theo and Liam hoisted Belasko onto their shoulders. "Let's go."

The journey back to the new wall was thankfully uneventful. Corey’s path led them around any possible dangers, and within ten minutes their group came back in sight of Gevaudan. The new wall, in truth, wasn’t much yet. At its highest in spots, it was only three feet tall, and other sections had barely had the foundations laid. It would take years to build the new wall up. Not just working on physical construction, but systematically pushing the monsters back out of that ring and into the deeper forest. It was how Gevaudan expanded. The forest itself provided all the lumber the city could ever need, but to secure any additional land hunting parties had to wage war on the ever-growing number of monsters.

The land behind the new wall was empty for now, the trees being cleared out to build the wall up. Someday the new sections might be converted into more farmland, or even possibly housing for the poorer citizens of Gevaudan. Even with all of the guard towers and barracks that would be built into any new section, it was a dangerous undertaking living so close to the frontier. Even the best walls could still be occasionally breached, and if that happened anyone living behind it would find themselves on the front line of attack. Still, Allison knew her aunt would see the wall build well. One day this new wall would become known as Wall Katherine, just as each wall built before it had taken the name of the queen who oversaw its construction.

The walls made Gevaudan concentric, everything radiating out from the inner city, but the growth wasn’t all even. The walls would curve, sometimes expanding sometimes retreating, adapting to the natural geography of the earth, and the needs when they were first put up. The new wall was quiet at night, it was too dangerous to consider construction. The noises could attract all kinds of monsters. It was much safer to only work during the day. Most of the beasts in the forest were nocturnal, though there were always exceptions to any rule. That same reality was what necessitated the hunting packs working at night. If you were going to hunt monsters, it was easier when they were out of their dens.

Allison stepped through what would one day be a solid gate, but for now, was still just an empty frame in the wall. The journey from the new wall to Wall Aimee was two more miles of solid walking. Allison kept her eyes peeled. Though the city was slowly claiming this land from the forest, until the new wall was finished it would still be all too easy for creatures to slip inside. Stripping away the trees made keeping a lookout easier at least, Allison could see almost a half-mile in either direction until the curve of the wall blocked the angle.

They stopped to rest at a small stream. Nothing seemed to be following them, and Allison could tell they all needed the break. The stream flowed down from deeper in the city. The whole place had been built around it in part, a reliable source of freshwater too precious not to claim. It was deeper and wider closer to the heart of Gevaudan, but even here it was at least still steady enough for everyone to have a drink and to refill their canteens. No one in Gevaudan would ever risk befouling the water. Besides being the lifeblood of the city, it was one of the few water sources the hunting parties could trust on the outskirts of the city. In the wilds, any body of water large enough to be of use would have been claimed by beasts already. When they were ready Allison moved them along again. Torches were blazing along the top of Wall Aimee, beckoning them home, and Allison felt some of her tension ease away with each step.

The nearest gate in Wall Aimee was barred tight, but the guards atop the ramparts would be able to see them approaching. Allison called up the passphrase, and chains started cranking as the great wrought-iron gate was lifted open.

“Welcome back!” One of the younger soldiers bounded down from the wall, grinning at Allison and her party. “How were things-“ He stopped when he got a better look at Belasko, and realized Theo and Liam weren't just carrying him because he was injured. The soldier doffed off his cap, wringing it in his hands. "Oh…" He ducked his head. "Begging your pardon. You all need any assistance getting him home?"

"We've got it," Malia said brusquely. 

The soldier nodded and hurried back up to his post. Death was never far in Gevaudan, but that didn't mean anyone liked to be reminded of it. 

Allison remembered asking once, when she was very young, why her family had chosen the forest to build their city. Her grandfather had told her that nothing worth having came easily. The forest had clean water, wood they could use to build, and good soil. The beasts of the forest had claimed it as their own for many of the same reasons. As she grew older, Allison had learned the beasts themselves were a part of the reason too. The world around them was filled with magic, and no human outside of the citizens of Beacon had any real connection to it. The talismans hunters could get by hunting and killing the beasts of the forest made the people of Gevaudan stronger. Everything from building their city and plowing fields, to fighting off invaders came more easily. If the price of prosperity for the kingdom was the death of individuals, it was a price the people of Gevaudan accepted with pride. Anyone who fell in defense of the city was honored as a martyr in their ongoing battle for survival and treated with the utmost honor. The people of Gevaudan would make sure Belasko’s family wanted for nothing, and the younger brother he had would be moved from the army to the city watch. There he could still serve, but more safely.

No one else spoke to Allison and her hunting party as they walked up the streets of the city, but word had clearly been sent ahead. Little by little people started to line the street, even as late as it was, coming out to honor Belasko and see his body home safely. Belasko’s family lived one section further in, behind Wall Celeise. By the time Allison and the others had made it there Belasko’s mother was already waiting on her front stoop. She waved them all inside.

“Put him on the bed there.”

Theo and Liam gently laid Belasko’s body down on the bed his mother had indicated. They stepped back silently. Belasko’s mother came forward and slowly uncovered his face. He could have been sleeping, and Allison was thankful his mother hadn’t decided to uncover him further where his wounds would be visible. His mother smiled down at him, her hand catching on his talon necklace.

“Did you get the thing that did it?”

“Yes ma’am.” Allison motioned to Malia, but Malia was already pulling out one of the smaller bundles of hair they’d taken from the nightmare. Malia passed them over to his mother. She took the piece of the nightmare’s mane with a small nod, holding it taut in her hands.

“Good…” Belasko’s mother wound the hair around her left hand like a bandage. "He wouldn't have wanted to leave it undone." She hesitated a moment and then reached down to pull Belasko’s necklace off his body. “Here.” She pressed the talons into Allison’s hand. “He wouldn’t want them burned with him.”

Allison nodded. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for bringing him home.”

"It was the least we could do," Allison said firmly. "He was one of us."

"He always will be," Theo added.

Belasko’s mother nodded, her eyes falling back on her son. Allison knew Belasko’s father had once been a hunter too, it had been part of Belasko’s motivation to sign up. Allison couldn’t help but wonder if this was the same bed his father’s body had been laid on all those years ago when he had come home for the last time.

“I think I’d like to be alone now…”

“Of course.” Allison inclined her head respectfully. “If you need anything-“

Belasko’s mother nodded absently.

One by one they all filed out of the house. It wasn’t the first time Allison’s team had lost someone, but it didn’t make it any easier. They all stood around in the street awkwardly. It felt wrong to go about their normal lives so soon after what had happened, but Allison knew it needed to be done. It was the way of Gevaudan.

“Is anyone else hungry?” Allison asked.

Malia gave her a small smile. “I’m always hungry.”

Allison saw Theo had an arm wrapped around Liam’s shoulders. In the light from the torches lining the streets Theo’s arm still looked painful. The cuts were mostly closed up now, but his veins were still darker than normal, and the skin around looked red and raw. Theo hummed his agreement. “Yeah, I could eat.”

“Corey?”

The quietest member of her party just nodded his agreement. Allison led the way still deeper into the city. At the late hour, there was only one good place to grab dinner in the city, and smoke curled up from behind the shining stone of Wall Marie. It was the first wall ever constructed in Gevaudan, and inside it housed the oldest parts of the city, the first fortress Allison's ancestors had established, and several other houses and long halls. Wall Marie was the only one of the many walls of Gevaudan to be made entirely out of stone instead of wood. More than that, the stone had been fused together somehow, creating one perfect uniform surface that gleamed in the moonlight. It lacked all of the typical vulnerabilities, there were no loose stones to be had, and the wall itself was over thirty feet thick. Even the single gate was virtually seamless when it shut. The wall was a marvel, and impossible to replicate by any method known to even the best stonemasons in Gevaudan. Rumor had it the wall had been raised for the kingdom by a great mage, centuries ago before magic took up sole residence in the kingdom of Beacon. 

The smoke was coming from the large dining hall that had been added onto the fortress a century or so ago as Gevaudan’s population grew. Delicious smells wafted out with it, and Allison’s stomach rumbled. The door to the dining hall boomed open, the noise from the solid wooden doors echoing around the large room. Huge trestle tables ran almost the whole length of the hall, parallel with the two longer walls. Another slightly smaller table was situated at the opposite end of the hall from Allison, turned so it faced out on the rest of the hall. There was a low step to elevate it above the rest of the room. During a feast the head table there was where Allison and her family would sit, a nod to their status, but still among their people. Heavy iron sconces were mounted along the walls at regular intervals, but only about half of them were filled with burning torches at this late hour.

The dining hall itself was mostly empty too, just one or two other hunting parties already seated. It was usually just the hunters who ate this late at night. Patrolling was grueling work, and the kitchens had long ago made the choice to always have plenty of food on hand late for the people who worked so hard to protect the city. Allison led her team over to the tables. One of the other hunters looked up, and Allison recognized Hayden, her own team spread out around her. Josh and Tracy, Allison reminded herself. It was important for any team leader to know their own people, it was imperative for a future ruler to know everyone.

“Hey.” Hayden smiled warmly and took a sizeable bite of her apple. "How'd things go for you guys tonight?"

“Belasko’s dead," Malia said bluntly, snagging an empty plate and waving over one of the servers.

"Sorry to hear that," Hayden said sympathetically. Allison remembered she'd lost a member of her own team just a few months ago. "You get-“

"We got it," Liam confirmed sullenly. 

Hayden nodded. “What was it?”

“A nightmare.” Allison swung her leg over the long wooden bench seat and settled down next to Malia and Liam. “Two of them actually. Did you see any out there?”

Hayden shook her head. “We were tracking something humanoid but it gave us the slip.” She stabbed one of the sausages on her plate a little harder than necessary, making her plate skid across the table an inch or so. “Next time I guess.”

Allison nodded absently.

“Where were the nightmares at?” Josh asked.

Corey sat down across from him and pulled out his map, showing him the clearing where they’d all fought. Josh grabbed a couple of papers from his own bag and started carefully adding in Corey’s notes. All of the hunting parties shared intelligence. The more they knew, the better chance they all had of coming back alive.

As they were comparing notes the servers came bustling out with trays, setting down a small loaf of bread, five more apples, and a large chunk of meat, complete with a carving knife. Meat was always plentiful in Gevaudan. While not every supernatural beast that roamed the forest was safe to eat, most of them could be prepared in ways that made them edible. It was yet another reason why leaving the nightmares behind was so unfortunate. With the size of them, they could have fed plenty. Allison cut off a piece of meat and sliced it smaller still on her own plate. She took a bite and tilted her head in surprise. 

“Venison?”

Hayden just smiled, but Tracey spoke up. “Just because we didn’t find anything tonight doesn’t mean we don’t earn our keep.” She nodded at the meat. “We came across a perfectly ordinary deer two nights ago.”

Another server came by, dropping off horns of ale for Allison and the others. Allison raised her glass to Hayden and her team and took a sip. The meal wasn’t anything fancy, but the warm, hearty food was just what Allison needed after a night out in the forest. As they ate, Allison slowly steered the conversation. No one was in much of a mood to talk, but Allison drew them in one by one. She and the others would be going out hunting again tomorrow night, just like they had tonight. Only Belasko wouldn’t be with them. His death was tragic, and Allison was as torn up about it as she knew her team had to be. She kept replaying finding the nightmare in her head, all the steps they’d each taken in the fight… Could Allison have done something differently? Was there some plan, or strategy she missed that could have meant Belasko didn’t have to die? She would never know. And as much as it hurt, Allison knew she couldn’t dwell on it. Not like that at least. Not if she wanted was going to keep doing her job. So instead Allison started telling stories.

“Hey,” Allison smiled down the table at Malia. “Do you remember the hunt for that Sluagh we all went on? Where you and Belasko found that beehive?”

Malia smiled back, in spite of the somber mood. “He wouldn’t shut up about it for days after.”

“What happened?” Hayden asked. “I don’t think I know that story.”

Malia picked up the telling of it, and Allison gave Hayden a small nod of thanks.

“-so Belasko gets the bright idea to try and knock it down to get the honey, and lands the thing right on his head." Malia laughed. "He got more honey than he bargained for, and a whole lot of stings to go with."

Theo snorted. “You’re not the one he made put ointment all over his back.”

“Well see, as I recall that was supposed to be Corey, but he pulled his little disappearing act, and left Belasko with you.” Malia used an apple slice to point back at Theo and grinned.

Corey shrugged. “Hey, I wasn't getting involved in that. I still have flashbacks to the time he asked me to help him wash out a cut and he managed to drench all of my maps.”

Liam laughed. “Remember the time he-“

Allison turned back to her food, keeping a careful ear on the stories her team was telling, and occasionally adding in an anecdote of her own. Eventually, even Hayden, Josh, and Tracey got in on it, sharing their own memories of Belasko. This was better, Allison knew. Healthier. But it didn’t make her guilt feel any lighter.

“Princess?”

Allison turned away from the table to find one of the servers hovering behind her, his head bowed. Allison frowned. She rarely stood on formality, and never when she dressed in leathers and with her team. Here, she was just another hunter. “Yes?” Allison asked.

"You're wanted in the sanctum." The server passed Allison a scrap of paper with that brief note, and her mother's seal stamped on it. Allison's brow furrowed. Well, that explained the formality at least. Lady Victoria was not someone anybody wanted to cross-Allison included. She glanced back at the others. Their conversation had paused when the server announced himself, but they all seemed in better spirits. They’d be alright without Allison hovering over them. Besides, a summons this late was highly unusual, especially to the sanctum, and her mother’s note had said to come immediately.

Allison nodded to her friends and stood up. “I’ll catch up with you all later.”

They nodded and waved, and Allison turned to go. The sanctum was in the heart of the fortress, predating it by at least several decades. Allison made her way to one of the dining hall’s side doors and turned into the fortress proper. The hallways here were completely dark, but Allison knew her way. Some walking and a few careful turns later, Allison came to the courtyard that was the heart of the fortress. Torches were lit here, one blazing on either side on the yard, throwing out long shadows that danced in the wind. The moon was still overhead, but it had slipped behind some clouds, dampening its glow.

The courtyard itself was empty, but that didn't surprise Allison. The ground in the yard was bare and uniform save for in the very center where the light from the torches picked out a good-sized hole in the ground. Once it had been just that, but as her ancestors had built up the fortress around it someone had the forethought to carve out steps. There were seven of them leading down, formed up by packed earth and weathered wooden planks. Allison stepped down inside. The steps led down into a tunnel. The tunnel wasn't dark, the torches from the courtyard managed to leak a little light into the entrance, and more firelight flickered back from further down. The tunnel was very wide, but shallow, allowing two, or even three people to walk it side by side comfortably. The height of the tunnel though forced even Allison to stay bent over as she walked. This was in fact, by design. When Allison’s ancestors had first modernized the tunnel by adding the steps the suggestion had been made to lower the floor too, to correct the height of the tunnel. The Argents had flatly refused. Allison came to the end of the tunnel, and the hard-packed dirt floor gave way to stone. She took a final step down into the sanctum and held her bent-over pose, bowing to her family.

"Allison, good. We're all here then." 

Allison stood up and smiled at her aunt. The sanctum was the Gevaudan equivalent of the gaudy throne rooms of foreign kingdoms. The cave was large and spacious. The ceiling was at least fifteen feet high. The walls were wide enough to comfortably hold Allison and her entire family, plus the one or two advisors scattered around the room, with space left over for a dozen or more men. The sanctum was once the den of the infamous Beast of Gevaudan, a legendary monster that had terrified the countryside until Allison’s accentor, Queen Marie, had slain the beast, and claimed its fortified lair to keep her own people safe. There was no throne in the sanctum, the Queen of Gevaudan stood instead. There was a place on the floor nearer the back wall where the stone floor was slightly higher, stained with ancient dried blood. Legend stated that it was the blood of the Beast where Marie had killed it, and it was here that the Queen of Gevaudan would stand. The tunnel that led to the cave entrance was directly opposite, effectively making anyone entering the sanctum bow to the Queen for the entire walk.

The sanctum had become Allison’s ancestor’s first home in the deadly forests of Gevaudan. Cave paintings adorned all of the walls, showing hunting scenes, and stories of the Argents’ past. The stone ceiling of the cave was blackened from years of candle smoke, and even now more than a dozen were blazing in heavy black iron candelabras placed around the room.

Allison stared across the room at her aunt. Kate was wearing all black. She wasn’t in any elaborate dress at this late hour but was instead wearing functional leather pants and a fitted jerkin. The wolf claws on her necklace glittered in the torchlight. Allison knew how much pride her aunt took in eliminating Talia Hale and her three children, Kate never took the necklace she’d made from their claws off. The other hunters had wondered among themselves the kind of power a talisman like that must have. Allison had even heard a few gossiping that a talisman made from a werewolf never lost its magic. Allison doubted that, but she had never brought it up with Kate. Privately, Allison wondered more what Kate had done with the other claws. She’d only taken five for her necklace, a single larger claw from Talia, and two each from her daughters. The design made the necklace more symmetrical, but Allison had never known her aunt to put fashion above function. Allison was willing to bet Kate wore the rest of the claws too, just in subtler ways.

"We've had word from Beacon," Kate said, by way of explaining Allison's summons. Kate nodded to Allison's father where he stood along one wall with her mother. Allison spied a small scroll in his hands, likely come in on one of the homing pigeons. One whole tower at the top of the fortress was devoted to a rookery. Her father took special care of the birds personally. Pigeons once born, had a remarkable ability to always find their way back to their home nest. Her father raised the birds and then sent a few in cages out with their agents outside Gevaudan. Any agent sent out would have several means of sending word back to Gevaudan when they needed to, but none would be faster or more direct than one of the messenger pigeons. A small scroll could easily be tied about the bird's leg, and its fight home would deliver the message right into Allison’s father’s waiting arms. It took time to move the birds in cages where they were needed overland, so if one of her father's agents had sent word that way the message must have been important. Allison's interest was piqued.

Chris nodded. "It came to us from one of my best. Inside the city itself."

“Would you just read the damn message already and get on with it?” Gerard huffed. Allison’s grandfather leaned against the opposite wall, behind her aunt. He looked angrier than usual. Allison frowned.

“Have you not already read it?”

Kate smiled down at Allison warmly. “I wanted to wait until you were here. No sense discussing whatever it is twice.”

Pride swelled within Allison. When Kate had become queen five years ago after Allison’s grandmother had passed, and she had immediately named Allison her heir. As the next oldest Argent woman, Allison would have been next in line anyway, but Kate made it abundantly clear she had no desire to have children of her own, confirming Allison as her sole heir. She'd started including Allison in her council sessions recently, but this would be the first time Kate had waited to start the meeting until Allison was there. Usually, Kate simply waited until the session was over to ask Allison her thoughts. Here it seemed, Kate wanted Allison to be an active participant in the meeting. Besides her family Allison had already noted Harris, Kate’s steward, warming his hands by one of the candelabras. People would hear about Kate’s gesture, elevating Allison’s status even more.

“Fine.” Chris cleared his throat and unfolded the scroll. The seal was already broken on it, so Allison knew her father must have already read it before calling the council together. “It seems Beacon has a new heir to the throne.”

“What?” Kate glared at the scroll. “I thought we eliminated every Hale except for that wretched king of theirs.”

“My agent says a servant boy displayed the powers of a werewolf during an assassination attempt on either the king or the visitors he was hosting from Kitsune as they were getting ready to depart," Chris said firmly.

“Hmm.” Gerard’s face darkened. “It’s happened before that some distant relative of the Hale family develops the power. Still-“

“What about this assassination attempt?” Victoria asked. Allison watched her mother turn from Chris to Gerard. “That wasn’t one of ours?”

“No.” Chris shook his head, but he glanced towards his father too.

Allison’s grandfather snorted. “One of ours wouldn’t have been sloppy enough to be stopped.”

Harris finally spoke up. “Does your mole have any guess who the target was supposed to be?”

“No.” Chris sighed.

Kate chuckled. “I can’t say I’d be surprised if someone else was trying to kill off the king. What about the Kitsune delegation? Is there any reason to suspect them as a target?”

“There’s been instability in their own country lately.” Chris offered. “They’ve tried to keep it under wraps, but a man calling himself the Nogitsune has waged a couple of attacks. He’s claiming to be the rightful ruler of Kitsune.”

“Hmm. Frankly, I’m more concerned with this newfound boy.” Kate scowled. “The question is, does this change our plans? Now with an heir, the landscape in Beacon may shift. What do we know about him?”

Allison wasn’t privy to just what those plans were, but she wasn’t surprised to hear they existed. Gevaudan and Beacon had been enemies for as long as either kingdom could remember. Gevaudan was dedicated to eliminating the dangerous magical creatures that plagued the land, not just in their own kingdom but everywhere. People had a right to live their lives free from fear and danger, and as long as the tyranny of the werewolves in Beacon continued that vision could never fully come to fruition. Since Gevaudan had taken revenge against Beacon eight years ago, virtually ending the Hale line, a cold peace had settled between the two kingdoms. Beacon no doubt suspected Gevaudan was responsible for the attack after their own unprovoked actions against Gevaudan traders, but as far as Allison knew they had never formally leveled any charges. Still, it had to only be a matter of time before hostilities resumed.

Chris shrugged, reluctantly. “We know nothing really.”

“What are your agents in the city doing if they’re not learning anything?” Gerard glared at him.

“My men know their jobs.” Chris snapped. “Now that he’s a factor you can be sure they’ll look into him. The boy was a servant before all this.” Allison’s father waved the scroll at Gerard. “My agents don’t have the time or resources to keep tabs on every single citizen of Beacon.”

Gerard smiled darkly. “And now your man will only have two more birds to send us if he does manage to learn anything of use.”

“There was _use_ in learning this had occurred at all.” Chris retorted.

Allison was used to seeing this kind of tension between her father and grandfather, but it was clearly helping nothing.

“You’re both right.” Heads whipped around to face Allison, and it took her a moment to realize she had been the one to speak. Allison swallowed hard. “We needed to know about this new heir, but we also need to know more about him, and how it changes things in Beacon.”

Kate grinned at Allison. “What would you suggest?”

Allison paused for a moment thinking. “Everyone else will be as unsure about this new heir to the throne as we are right? We can use that.”

Kate nodded for her to go on. “Specifically, how?”

"We send some more people to Beacon." Allison could already see the protests starting from Harris and her father. "Undercover obviously." Allison turned to her father. "You said the King of Beacon likes to make a show of himself right?”

“Well…” Chris considered it a moment. “That’s the general consensus at least.”

“So, what do you want to bet he’ll want to make a big deal out of this new heir?” Allison asked. 

"It seems presumptuous to act on the idea that everyone will be curious about this boy," Harris grumbled. "We aren't even sure how many people are aware of the situation-

"The word is out." Allison pointed to the scroll still in her father's hands. "You heard the report. Do you really think if the delegation from Kitsune was getting ready to leave, that there wasn’t a crowd there to watch the King see them off? My father’s men may be skilled, but I can hardly believe that if we’re hearing of this that no one else knows.”

“Ha!” Gerard barked. “She’s got you there Harris.”

Victoria frowned. “News of an heir would probably draw in people from the outlying areas of Beacon into the city…

Kate nodded slowly. “Not to mention all of the merchants who will be making their way there to capitalize on the situation.”

“With that many people coming into the city the city watch and the knight regiments will be on high alert.” Chris pointed out. 

“Of course, they will.” Kate waved him off. “What will it matter? They’ll be overworked and understaffed. It’s still the perfect opportunity to get some more of our people inside to get a better look at this heir.”

“I already have men inside Beacon.” Chris insisted. “Give them time and we’ll learn plenty.”

“You have _spies_ ," Gerard said flippantly. “We may very well be in need of soldiers.”

“So what, we’re sending a party of our assassins to finish off what this one failed to do?” Chris rattled the scroll.

Kate was silent, pacing back and forth across the blood of the Beast. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.” Kate smiled. “We send in a team of hunters. Your spies can help them get the lay of the land, and then if we need to act they can.”

"I can compile a list of possibilities," Harris said quickly, anxious to show he was on board now that Kate had committed to a plan. 

Kate nodded. Allison knew she wasn’t overly fond of Harris, but the man was a top-notch bureaucrat. “See to it then.”

Harris bowed and hurried back down the tunnel. 

"Dismissed." Kate nodded once to her family and then turned to the back of the cave. Allison knew there was another exit there, hidden from view by the angle of the stones. It had been added when the fortress was built, exclusively for use by the Queen. Kate had shown Allison this end of it once. The other side of the passage was a secret each old Queen revealed to the new, though it was obviously somewhere in the fortress. Someday Kate had promised Allison that she would be there when Allison walked down it for the first time. Allison bowed her head with the rest of her family as Kate left, her thoughts drifting back to the new heir to Beacon. She wondered just what Gevaudan's hunters would find when they got there.

***

The coin was waiting for Theo when he got home. It was an old Gevaudan mark, with Queen Marie’s face crudely etched on one side, and the kingdom’s heraldry on the other. The coin was blackened with age and disuse. Old marks had been retired under the rule of Queen Celeise in favor of gold and silver coins that could more easily be used outside of Gevaudan. The coin was sitting on the table in the small room Theo shared with Liam inside the hunter's barracks. Even in its tarnished state, it caught the candlelight as soon as Liam had lit the wick. Theo picked the coin up reluctantly, rubbing its worn face with his thumb. The coin always felt lighter than it should, maybe because Theo knew what it meant. A knot was already forming in his stomach.

“You have to go, don’t you?” Liam asked, sliding down onto their bed.

Theo nodded silently.

“What if you didn’t?” Liam huffed. “I don’t know why you have to-“

“Yes, you do.” Theo slid the coin into his pocket and bent down to kiss Liam’s forehead. “But it’s still sweet of you to say.”

Liam nodded reluctantly, his hand finding Theo’s and squeezing it once. “Just be careful okay? Whatever it is-”

“Always.” Theo knew he really wouldn’t have much say in the matter, but he’d happily offer Liam any assurance he could.

Theo slipped out of their room and into the dark hallway of the barracks. Theo wouldn’t need a torch where he was going. He knew the way cold by now and could make the trip almost with his eyes closed. Besides, the men he was going to meet wouldn’t appreciate any extra unwanted attention. Theo had been expecting the summons. It was almost routine now whenever they came back from a hunt, the coin would appear calling Theo, and Theo would go, knowing who was waiting for him.

Theo made his way out of the barracks. It had cooled down since they had finished their dinner, and the wind was picking up. The Gevaudan banner over the barracks whipped back and forth in the air, a bloody silver blade on a green field. Gevaudan had always known what it was. Every day for its citizens was a struggle to survive against forces in the world that were far stronger than them, and more then willing to kill. Gevaudan had been founded by hunters and soldiers, and each new generation embraced that same burden to fight back against the darkness. Theo was simply the next stage of that same cycle.

The guard at the fortress’ side door let him in when Theo flashed him the coin. Inside the fortress was as dark as the barracks. Theo worked his way down, taking flights of stairs past ancient jail cells, and rooms filled with only dust. Most of the lower rooms in the fortress had been abandoned as it was built up and newer, better rooms were made. Which, of course, had made it the perfect spot for the man summoning Theo. Theo finally came to the corridor he needed. There was no discernible door, just a dark empty hallway. A thin crack was just barely visible across one of the worn gray bricks to Theo’s right. Theo reached into his pocket and pushed the coin through the crack in the foundation, listening carefully as it fell through to the other side. A minute later Theo could hear a lever being pulled, and a small section of the wall right in front of him fell inward on a hinge, revealing a large hidden room bathed in candlelight.

“You’re late.”

Theo flushed, and bent down to pick the coin up off the dirt floor. Theo had come as soon as he'd seen the coin. There wasn't much Theo could do if the coin was left somewhere Theo wouldn't be until later, but he knew he couldn't say that. "Sorry, sir."

“You should be.” Gerard held his hand out for the coin and Theo passed it to him. “C’mon.”

Theo stepped out of the doorway, letting it slam closed again behind him. The room was filled with equipment and instruments. In the very center of the room, a large wooden table was laid out, with leather straps attached to it in several places. A large chandelier hung over it, lighting it up clearly.

“You know what to do.” Gerard huffed.

Theo grimaced, and slowly stripped down to his undergarments. The room was cold and drafty. Theo shivered, goosebumps breaking out across his skin. Glass protected the contents of the cabinets on the far wall, the panes bowed and warped a little with age, but Theo caught fragments of his own reflection in them as he walked over to the table. Unlike every other hunter he knew Theo's body was practically unmarked, boasting none of the scars or scrapes that were a staple of their line of work. The only mark visible on Theo’s skin ran diagonally across his chest, starting high on his left pectoral and running down to the right. The wounds on his forearm from the nightmare were already completely gone. Theo climbed onto the table and laid back. He shivered again as the cold wood pressed against his skin.

Gerard stepped up closer to the table, and a second figure stepped out from among the instruments. The second figure was tall, standing above even Gerard, and dressed head to toe in black. Their face was hidden behind a large bird mask, with a dramatic hooked beak and glassy black lens that hid their eyes, reflecting the candlelight back down at Theo. Theo tensed. The Raven, as Theo had come to think of him, had haunted Theo’s dreams for years.

The Raven reached out and strapped down Theo’s arms and legs, followed quickly by his neck. The neck strap was new. Theo fought to keep his breathing controlled and even. He had done this before, he could do it again.

Gerard’s face hovered over Theo. “Allison said you fought some nightmares…”

It wasn't a question, but Theo knew he would want an answer. Theo started to nod, but between the table and the neck strap, it was awkward. He cleared his throat instead. "Yes sir."

"Mm." Gerard hummed in acknowledgment. 

The Raven turned Theo’s arm around in the strap, running his gloved fingers along Theo’s forearm.

“And one bit you?” Gerard asked, eyeing Theo’s arm now too. “But you healed like normal?”

“Yes sir.”

The Raven pointed to Theo's arm and signed something to Gerard. Gerard nodded. Theo had never heard the Raven speak. He was clearly capable of communicating with Gerard as he poked and prodded at Theo, but Gerard was the only one who ever addressed Theo. 

A knife flashed in the Raven’s hand, and Theo hissed involuntarily as pain shot up his left arm. Theo strained his head up against the neck strap to see. The Raven had sliced Theo's arm back open and was peeling the wound back, leaning down and looking closer at the inside of Theo's arm. Theo grit his teeth as the Raven pinned the skin back. Finally, the Raven nodded up to Gerard.

“Good.” Gerard smiled. “Very good. And you felt nothing out of the ordinary?”

Theo had felt the same thing he had for years now, the strange burning as his flesh knit itself back together. It still felt foreign to him, but Theo couldn’t argue with results. Gerard had first taken an interest in Theo almost ten years ago, though Theo hadn’t known it at the time. A plague had hit Gevaudan hard that year. Theo and most of the other children had gotten sick, but the healers treating them had been surprised to find Theo recovered far quicker than the others who were stricken ill. Theo had been an orphan by then, his parents had died hunting when he was very young, but he remembered seeing Gerard, then King consort to Queen Aimee, come to the group home where the orphans of Gevaudan were raised. He’d questioned the caregivers about Theo’s family and his recovery while Theo listened with his ear pressed to the door. The caregivers told the king everything they knew about Theo and his family, and Gerard had left. At the time Theo had been crushed. When he’d heard the King Consort was asking about him from one of the other orphans he’d been sure it had meant he was somehow special. But then Gerard had left confirmed in the knowledge that Theo was just an ordinary, very healthy, young boy.

It turned out that was precisely what he’d been looking for. Six years later Gerard had found Theo again. Theo had been training to become a hunter himself by then, though he was still too young to actually go beyond the city’s walls. Gerard had asked Theo some questions and confirmed Theo was as he'd remembered him, healthy and strong. Queen Kate had taken over by then, but as the Queen's father Gerard still wielded a great deal of influence in Gevaudan. He had offered Theo a chance to improve the defenses of the city. To risk himself to protect others, just like a true hunter would. Theo had jumped at the chance.

That was the first time Theo had been taken to this room. The first time he’d seen the Raven. Gerard and the masked man had strapped Theo down to the table and cut him open. Of course, they'd had the courtesy to knock him out first at least that time. They had needed him completely immobile for the procedure. Theo still wasn't sure how, but Gerard and the Raven had managed to graft living werewolf tissue onto Theo's heart. The process had nearly killed Theo. Gerard had taken great pains over the years to remind Theo just how much effort and expense had been put into keeping him alive. Theo's heart had needed to be restarted magically three different times before it would keep beating on its own. Theo had no idea how Gerard had managed to get his hands on that kind of magic. No mage would do that kind of work for an enemy of Beacon, and an artifact that could do something like that would have been worth more than all the gold in Gevaudan.

But Gerard’s investment in Theo, as Gerard always referred to it, had paid off. However he had planned it, Gerard's scheme worked. The werewolf tissue had fused with Theo's heart and passed along some of a true werewolf's natural gifts. Theo could heal, albeit much slower than a real werewolf, and he possessed slightly better than normal human senses. It should have been a huge victory for Gerard, but he always wanted more out of Theo. He and the Raven were constantly looking for ways to improve upon the abilities Theo had actually gotten. Theo was a human Guinea pig, their first test subject that they both seemed intent on perfecting before they tried the technique again.

“Well?” Gerard barked.

"No." Theo said quickly. "Nothing unusual.”

“Good.” Gerard nodded again, and the Raven went over to make a note in a battered leather-bound book. They kept everything very secretive. Theo's fellow hunters had some knowledge of his abilities, of course, it would have been impossible for Theo to work with them without them noticing at some point. Theo had always imagined that was part of the reason he was chosen to serve with Allison. Theo didn’t know how much she knew about how her grandfather had given Theo his abilities, Theo figured she must at least have some idea. And no doubt the Queen had to know. But beyond that, Theo’s capabilities, and Gerard’s experimentation on him were a well-kept secret. Liam suspected some, he knew the coin meant someone was calling Theo away when it appeared, and Theo and Liam had been together long enough for Liam to know it wasn’t something Theo could ignore, whatever else it meant. But Theo had never told Liam exactly what happened in this room. Gerard had made abundantly clear years ago that he would kill anyone Theo told. Theo had never had any reason to doubt his conviction.

The Raven set the book aside and unrolled a strange collection of tools and syringes. Theo grit his teeth. He knew what would be coming next. The Raven lifted a syringe filled with a noxious green liquid and jabbed it into Theo’s injured arm. Whatever the serum was it burned like fire going in, and Theo couldn’t help the pained spasms that racked through him. He knew better than to cry out though. Theo bit down on his own tongue until he was tasting blood. Gerard frowned, but the Raven’s mask remained the perfect illustration of impassivity. The Raven leaned low over Theo’s arm, the beak from the mask nearly grazing the table as he studied Theo’s arm for any change.

Theo gasped for breath as the pain slowly started to recede. The Raven shook his head and reached for another vial. The masked man dumped something silvery and metallic over the cut in Theo’s arm. A cool numbness spread up Theo’s arm. As strange as it felt, Theo welcomed it after the last experiment. The Raven poked Theo’s fingers with an empty syringe hard enough to draw blood. Theo didn’t feel a thing. The Raven scooped up some of Theo’s blood into an empty jar and set it aside. He brought the needle back to poke Theo’s fingers again a few minutes later, and this time Theo could just barely register it, his fingers twitching back away from the needle.

Gerard crossed his arms and looked down at Theo appraisingly. “That seems faster than before.”

The Raven nodded.

"Good." Gerard smiled and smacked Theo's leg. "Very good. Your body is starting to improve again.”

Theo didn’t say anything, he just braced himself for whatever might come next. It turned out to be lightning. The Raven pulled out some sort of magical artifact that looked like a smooth river stone with runes carved into. The Raven placed the stone on Theo’s bare chest, and the next thing Theo knew small bolts of lightning were shooting out and shocking him. It got worse from there. The bolts started to come faster and faster, the runes in the rock glowing brighter as it powered up. Then they got stronger. Each successive shook seemed to hurt more, and finally, Theo was crying in spite of everything, crying and gasping as his whole body convulsed.

He must have blacked out for a while after that. When Theo came to again the Raven was packing up his bag, and the scorched skin on Theo's chest was already healed, even if it did look a little pinker than usual. 

Gerard smiled at the Raven as he headed out. “Until next time my friend.”

The Raven nodded and shook Gerard's hand before heading back out the door Theo had come in. Gerard glanced down at Theo and unhooked the straps around Theo’s neck and one of his arms, so Theo could get himself out the rest of the way. Theo glanced at his left arm as he unhooked it. The skin had closed up again, but there were traces of black veins still as his body worked to repair the damage.

"You're free to go," Gerard said, turning back to some of the notes he and the Raven had been making on how Theo's body reacted to everything.

Theo picked up his clothes and cranked the hidden door back open. Once the door was closed again behind him, and Theo was alone in the hallway, he started to get dressed. The corridor was colder than the laboratory, lacking the candles that had been burning inside the hidden room for the past two hours or so, but Theo didn’t want to spend one more minute there than he had to. When he was finally dressed again, Theo started the slow walk back up through the fortress. The fortress was still so quiet. Not even the guard acknowledged Theo as Theo stepped outside and headed back to the barracks. 

Light flickered out from under the door when Theo made it back to his room. Theo frowned and eased the door open. The candle Liam had first lit when they got home from dinner had burned down to almost a third of its original length. Liam was sitting at the table, his head slumped down onto his arms. Theo smiled. He shut the door behind him and walked over to Liam.

"Hey," Theo whispered softly. He ran his fingers into Liam's hair. 

“Mm?” A cute little hum escaped from Liam as he sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “You’re back.”

Theo nodded, his fingers still running between Liam’s hair. It felt good to touch him. Liam always felt good, but especially after- well after. Theo didn’t want to dwell on Gerard or the Raven now that he was home.

“I was gonna wait up for you," Liam said sleepily.

“You almost did.” Theo chuckled.

“Hey…” Liam frowned, his hand catching onto Theo’s left arm. “I thought this had healed.”

Theo pulled his arm back quickly. “It is healing.”

“Theo…” Liam rubbed his face, and Theo tried not to smile when he saw Liam had drooled a little as he slept.

Theo sighed and sat down on their bed already pulling off his boots and unlacing his breeches. “I can’t talk about it. You know I can’t.”

“I hate this.” Liam scowled. “Why can’t you just tell me what’s happening-“

"Let it go, Liam." Theo snapped, a little harsher than he'd intended to be. "Please. Just let it go."

"Yeah…" Liam frowned and looked at Theo a little funny. "Yeah… okay."

Theo was too tired and too worried to look a gift horse in the mouth. He sighed and tossed his tunic down onto the floor with his pants. Theo doubted he'd heard the last of Liam's objections, but for now, he was happy just to take the win. Theo pulled back the covers to their bed, pushing aside the heavy animal furs and climbing in between the sheets. Theo reached out his arm, patting the open space next to him. Liam stripped down to his own underwear and set his clothes in a somewhat neater pile on the chair.

“Get in here already.” Theo smiled.

Liam slipped in next to Theo, his face less than an inch away from Theo’s.

Theo reached out and ran his thumb along Liam’s exposed collar bone. “I’m sorry I snapped.”

"It's okay." Liam leaned into Theo's touch and tangled their legs together.

“No, it’s not.” Theo sighed. “I know you just want to help. But this is serious…”

"I know you can't talk about it," Liam said quietly. "Whatever it is…" Liam sighed. “I just want to help.”

Theo kissed him. “You do help me. Everyday.”

Liam grinned and kissed him back. 

Theo groaned in approval, and deepened the kiss, pressing his body up against Liam’s. Liam responded eagerly, slotting himself up against Theo. Theo ran his hands across Liam’s chest, his back, every inch of skin he could reach. Liam might have been shorter than Theo, but he was just as muscular, and every time Theo touched him it was like he was grounded again. No Gerard, no Raven, no experiments. Just Liam.

It didn’t take long for the rest of Liam’s body to wake up. Liam’s cock was grinding up against Theo’s hip, and Theo reached a hand down to cup him through his underwear.

Liam finally broke the kiss breathlessly. “Theo-“

Theo threw the sheets back and slid further down the bed. With two quick hands, he grabbed both sides of Liam's underwear and swiftly yanked them down his boyfriend's legs. Liam’s dick flopped out, his erection twitching in the cooler air. Theo wrapped his hand around the shaft and brought his mouth down over just the tip, suckling on Liam like a calf might at its mother. Theo smiled to himself, if he was good he’d even get milk too.

Liam groaned and tried to push himself up further into Theo's mouth. "More-please."

Theo couldn’t refuse him, and he gladly opened his jaw wider, sliding his lips up and down Liam's length. Liam gasped and reached a hand down towards Theo's head. Theo smiled to himself and batted Liam's hand away easily. Liam's hand latched onto Theo's arm instead, his fingers running over the exact spot Gerard and the Raven had just been cutting open. Theo shuddered. He was suddenly overcome by the need to be _here_. To be with Liam fully, and to forget everything else. To drown it out. Theo sat up and shimmied out of his own underwear. Liam watched Theo with glassy eyes, lust, and a veil of sleepiness seeming to make Liam slow to grasp Theo’s plan.

“What are you do going to-“ Liam broke off, and frowned as Theo grabbed ahold of Liam’s cock and lined it up where he wanted it.

Theo slammed himself down onto Liam’s cock without another thought. Pain flared up almost immediately. Theo had years of practice at taking Liam’s cock, but never like this, without any preparation. Theo squeezed his eyes shut and tried to power through it. Pain was back in the laboratory with Gerard and the Raven. Theo was with Liam. Fully with Liam. And it would feel good soon. Theo just needed to-

"Theo!" Rock-solid hands grabbed his waist, locking him in place. "What the hell are you thinking?" Liam asked furiously. Theo noted distantly that he sounded fully awake now. "You can't just… you have to give yourself time to adjust. And prep…" Liam sounded at a loss for words. "Seriously Theo… you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I need to feel it.” Theo opened his eyes reluctantly. “Come on, I’ll heal-“

Liam tightened his grip on Theo’s hips. “Just because you’ll heal doesn’t mean I want to hurt you.”

Guilt barreled through Theo as he realized how this all must have felt for Liam. “I’m sorry…”

Liam sat up so his chest was against Theo’s, and let go of his death grip on Theo’s hips in favor of wrapping his arms around Theo. “What’s going on?” Liam asked.

Theo sighed, leaning forward to push his forehead into Liam’s. The pain was already starting to go away. Whatever damage Theo had done to himself was healing as Liam forced Theo to take to adjust. “I needed to feel you. I needed to just not think for a minute, and feel-feel _good_ again…”

"And you couldn't have just taken the time to do this right like I don't, every other time we've done this?" Liam was rubbing circles into Theo's back. "Are you okay?"

“Yeah.” Theo’s face flushed with embarrassment at his own stupidity. “I- it's already healing…"

Theo felt Liam squeeze his shoulders, then he was tipping Theo back just a little, and looking up right into Theo's eyes. "That's not what I asked," Liam said gently. 

Theo was overcome, realizing yet again just how lucky he was to have found Liam, and how much of a mess his life would probably be without him. His eyes felt a little watery, and he smiled down at Liam. “I will be.”

“Okay…” Liam shifted, rolling them both over so they were laying down on their sides again. Theo gasped a little. His cock, which had shriveled quickly after Theo’s initial plunge, was slowly plumping up again as Liam’s cock rubbed up inside of him. Liam frowned, as it gradually rose up and poked his abs. Liam hesitated, clearly unsure of what to do. “Did you still want…”

Theo did. Not because he needed to forget about the night he’d had, but because he was with Liam, here, right now. There was nothing Theo loved more than just _being_ with Liam, and he was still a little horrified that he had almost let his baggage mess that up. Theo looked straight across at Liam, searching his face for any lingering doubts or concerns. “Is that okay?” Theo asked.

Liam smiled, rolling his hips up into Theo ever so gently. “Let me take care of you then.”

Theo groaned, his cock beading with precum. Liam swallowed the noise with a kiss, still keeping up his slow, languid pace. Liam wasn’t just fucking Theo, or having sex with him. Liam was loving Theo, with every inch of his body. When Theo's release finally came it built up like a crescendo, all the tension in his body easing away as Liam made Theo practically vibrate with pleasure.

Theo’s cock fired off shot after shot of cum, spraying all over Liam’s chest and the sheets between them. Liam finished not long after, flooding Theo’s ass. They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, with Liam still buried inside of Theo as they drifted off to sleep.

Theo knew the Raven wouldn’t trouble his dreams tonight.

He woke up, hours later, to the sound of shouting. Liam stirred slowly next to him.

“What is it?” Liam mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“I don’t know-“ But the shouting was getting closer, and when it finally did become clear it sent a cold shiver down Theo’s spine.

“BREACH! BREACH OF THE GATES! THREE DEAD PAST GATE AIMEE-“

Theo was out of bed in a flash, grabbing his clothes up off the floor and throwing them back on, heedless of anything else. Liam was struggling out of bed right behind him. Theo's mind was racing. Three people dead already. How many more would follow if they didn't track down whatever had gotten inside quick enough? Theo finished pulling on his jerkin and grabbed for his knives, sliding them into the sheaths on his belt. He picked Liam's machete off the wall and tossed it to him. Liam caught it without missing a step, and together the two of them took off, out of bed, and ready to fight less than two minutes after the alarm was raised. Theo only hoped it would be enough.

Everything behind Wall Marie was still in fairly good order. Theo saw dozens of other hunters racing out of the barracks too, rushing to the gate that would take them down into the rest of the city. He and Liam linked up with Malia and Corey as soon as they saw them, but there was no sign of Allison yet. If she was coming from her rooms in the fortress it would take her longer to get down to the street level.

Theo grimaced. “We can’t wait for her.”

“You sure?” Corey asked.

Theo nodded. “She’ll catch up and find us when she does.”

“Theo’s right.” Malia hefted her ax. “Let’s go.”

Corey led the way when they got to the gate, ducking and weaving around other hunters and soldiers. At his first opportunity, Corey jumped up onto the roof of one of the nearby houses, using the higher elevation for a better vantage point and to avoid the bottlenecks locking up the traffic on the streets.

The rest of them weren’t as nimble as Corey, but they followed him as best as they could, with Corey calling out direction whenever he could to help.

“Go left!” Corey called down as Theo and the others came upon a cart stuck in the middle of the road. In the owner’s hurry to try and clear it away one of the wagon wheels had come off, and now the whole thing was stuck under its own weight. Theo did as Corey had instructed, ducking around to the left where there were slightly fewer people. It was a battle just to get close to Wall Aimee. The citizens who lived between it and Wall Celeise were all scrambling to try and flee behind Wall Celeise. Soldiers and members of the city watch were trying to keep things orderly, cordoning off the citizens coming in from the rest of the residents, but that wouldn't last long if the hunters didn't get their job done.

Theo pushed his way through the gate and raced to the shadow of Wall Aimee, Malia, and Liam hot on his heels. Corey was still ambling over rooftops. It didn't take them long to find the bodies. Hayden and her team were already there, and Theo spotted other hunters running from house to house, checking them as quickly as they could. Someone had draped a cloth over the bodies, but Hayden looked like she was going to be sick. Theo frowned. He'd never known her to have a weak stomach. "What have we got?"

Hayden grimaced. "Three sets of tracks leading away from two bodies here, and Josh found another body about a block away. No sign of what did it yet."

"Okay…" Theo nodded. That was a start at least. Still, he missed having Allison here. Now was the time she'd be coming up with some kind of plan. Theo glanced back at the frenzied citizens and hoped Allison got here soon.

“What kind of animal tracks?” Corey called down. He was on the roof above them, leaning down over the street. “What sort of beast are we looking for?”

“Not animal tracks.” Hayden glared down at the muddy street. “Boot tracks.”

“Are we sure it’s our kind of thing?” Malia asked. She sounded skeptical, and even a little disappointed.

“We’re sure.” Hayden whipped back the cloth, showing a bloody mess. It was hard to make out much, but whatever had attacked these poor people had clearly been chewing on some of their bones. And from the looks of it, had eaten some of them too.

“So it’s something humanoid…”

Hayden just nodded.

Theo winced. “You don’t know that it’s-“

“We don’t know it isn’t the same beast we were hunting either.”

Theo shrugged. He’d had to try, but he wasn’t very good at this kind of thing. He caught Liam’s eye covertly and nodded towards Hayden. Liam sighed and rolled his eyes at Theo, but he covered it before Hayden or her team could see.

“Hey, “Liam said gently. “You can’t beat yourself up over something that might not even be your fault.”

"Yeah," Malia added gruffly. "Besides- you know the best way to get over a bad hunt?" She smiled and stretched her arms, bringing the shaft of her ax up and pressing it into her shoulder blades. "Killing something else."

“That I can agree with.” Hayden gave them all a small smile. “Let’s find these bastards.”

They set out with their respective groups, but stayed fairly close just in case. Humanoid monsters were fairly rare, and until they had a better idea of what they were actually dealing with, it was better to be safe than sorry. Almost thirty minutes later Corey froze when he hopped to the roof of yet another house. He leaned down up against the chimney to listen for something. He flashed Theo a hand sign a second later. _Contact._ Theo whistled and signaled to the other nearby hunters. Malia and Liam both nodded back at Theo signifying their readiness. Out of the corner of his eye, Theo caught Hayden and her team circling around to cover the back windows of the house. Theo pulled a knife from his belt and silently crept up to the door. Theo counted down the seconds on his fingers for everyone to see. When he finally reached zero Theo kicked the door in as hard as he could, and heard Hayden and Josh forcing their way in through the shudders in the back. 

The house was dark, but the torchlight from the street poured in through the open door, revealing a man and a woman hunched over a table eating. Their meal looked to be the former residents of the house. Both their heads snapped up as Theo entered, showing him glowing white eyes and rows of sharp pointed teeth.

"Wendigos!" Theo shouted loudly. This wasn't good. Wendigos were _strong_. And if they had just gorged themselves on human flesh they were going to be even harder to take down than normal.

The man stood up quickly. He grabbed his chair and threw it at Theo, the heavy wooden frame not slowing him down in the least. Theo hurled a knife at him in response, already pulling a second one from his belt. Theo’s first knife caught him in the eye, and the wendigo howled wildly as blood started to pour down his face. It had just been a glancing blow, but all the blood from a head wound would at least temporarily blind him. The second wendigo made a beeline for the back room, right into Hayden and Josh’s waiting arms. The wendigo in front of Theo swiped at his face, the fresh blood from his cut mixing with the dried blood already on his hands. He charged at Theo as soon as he could see clearly again.

Theo ducked to the side at the last possible minute, keeping the wendigo’s attention on him. Malia’s ax head swung down with all of the force she could muster, embedding itself deep into the wendigo’s back. The wendigo howled horribly and spun around to slash at Malia. Malia backed away in time, but her ax had gone too deep, and as she retreated a step it stayed anchored in the wendigo’s flesh leaving Malia without a weapon. Without missing a beat Liam took her place, dipping down low to drive the blade of his machete into the monster’s hamstring.

The wendigo collapsed down to all fours, breathing hard. It tried to stand back up, but the damage Liam had done to its leg was throwing it off balance, and it stumbled backwards towards the table. Without its mobility, the sheer strength the wendigo could bring to the fight was all but meaningless. It glared up at Theo and the others, blood still dripping from its teeth.

“Stupid hunters…” The wendigo smiled wickedly. “You’re not so hard to outsmart.” He chuckled, nodding back to the table. “They tasted so good. We should thank you-“

Theo drove his knife down into the wendigo's neck, slicing its spinal column, and ending the wretched thing's life for good. 

Malia spit down onto the body. “Who’s smarter now?”

Just as she said it the second wendigo came bursting out of the back room. It was bleeding from several cuts on its arms and torso, but it was still moving easily. Theo quickly pulled his knife out of the dead wendigo. The fight with the first wendigo had pulled them far enough away from the door that the second would have a clean shot at escape. Theo was the only one who had a chance of hitting it from here, but there was only so much damage a throwing knife could do. Theo tried anyway. The knife struck the wendigo in the shoulder, and she hissed in pain. Her right arm drooped heavily, but she still managed to make it out of the door.

“Josh?” Theo shouted. “Hayden?”

"We're fine!" Hayden stumbled out of the backroom, looking bloody but otherwise unharmed. "She just stunned Josh. Don't let it get away!"

Theo and the others scrambled outside. The wendigo was already halfway down the street and moving fast. It was heading back towards the forest rather than farther into the city, and if it made it they might never be able to catch it.

Wind whipped by Theo’s face, and the next thing he knew a black shaft was sticking up out of the wendigo’s head as it collapsed to the ground. Allison was standing at the other end of the street, a small smile on her face.

“I’m glad I’m not too late.”

Liam grinned. “I’d say you were right on time actually.”

Allison walked down to meet them, Corey following along behind her. He must have spotted Allison when she made it to this section of the city and gone to help direct her to them. Allison nodded to the house they just exited. “The other one is dead in there?”

Theo nodded. “One of them at least.” They stepped inside to check on Josh, and so Malia could finally pull her ax free from the wendigo’s back. Theo bent down and scooped up the first knife he’d thrown too, while Hayden filled Allison in on the third set of footprints they’d found.

Allison frowned. “And nobody else has found anything in these houses?”

"Nothing wendigo related at least," Corey said.

Theo cocked his eyebrows curiously, but Corey didn’t elaborate. Allison moved past it too, trying to work out where the third monster might be hiding. Theo caught Liam’s eye and he shrugged. Theo tried not to smile, knowing Liam must have been curious too. Maybe if they got Corey drunk later when all this was over he’d feel more inclined to gossip.

“Maybe it left the city like that last one was trying to do.” Malia offered.

“Maybe…” Allison bit the nail on one of her fingers. Theo had seen her do it sometimes when she was thinking especially hard. “But I think there’s a worse possibility.”

“What do you mean?” Liam asked.

“It could have gone further in.”

Hayden gaped at Allison. “The guards would-“

"They can't keep an eye on everyone coming through," Allison said grimly. "And one more panicked person would blend in pretty easily."

“Even if they were covered in blood?” Theo pointed to the dead wendigo still sitting by the table. “These two were both covered in it, and if the third one has been eating too I’d bet it’s looking just as bad.”

“Who found the bodies?” Allison asked.

“The guard didn’t get a name.” Hayden paled. “You think they reported themselves?”

“Or they could have played it off that way if someone else came along.” Allison shrugged. “No one would think anything of it if a person got themselves covered in blood trying to help a monster victim.”

No one needed to say how much damage the wendigo could do in the city if Allison were right.

Theo scowled. "We need to get back to the gate and hope the guards are still quarantining people from this section."

They took off running, Hayden staying behind to help Josh. People were packed in around the gate, but as they got closer Theo was relieved to see the guards had kept doing their jobs. The confused and panicked citizens parted around Allison as they saw her approach. Theo watched her posture, and she seemed to stand just a little bit taller. Theo took up a position behind her, his head already roaming the crowd. His fingers twitched, ready to grab one of his knives at the slightest provocation. Allison found the guard captain and climbed up on the steps to whisper in his ear. The captain’s eyes widened, and he gave the crowd a nervous look, but whatever Allison said to him he nodded reluctantly. Allison stepped out in front of him and turned to face the crowd.

“People of Gevaudan-“ Allison spoke clearly and calmly. "Our brave hunters have slain two beasts that attacked our city!"

Cheers rose up from the crowd in spots. Theo looked for those pockets of people who were staying silent. Most of them just looked scared still, but anytime Theo saw something else, anger, confusion, disbelief, he noted where they were standing.

“Can we go back home?” Someone shouted. “Is it safe to go back?”

“It will be.” Allison smiled again, somehow putting the woman who had interrupted her at ease. “Right now, our hunters and the city watch are just taking care of the remains, and tending to our own fallen kin. If we can just be a little patient, I promise you’ll be able to go back home very soon.”

Some of the tension seemed to fade away from the crowd. They didn’t have a mob on their hands yet at least. But Theo wondered what would happen if Allison was right, and it turned out the third wendigo was hiding somewhere within the crowd.

“What now?” Theo asked quietly as Allison stepped down next to him.

“We need to circulate around the crowd. Here.” Allison grabbed a torch and passed it over to Theo.

Theo frowned. “What’s this for?”

"Try to shine it close to their eyes," Allison said. "Look for a reflection. Like with a dog."

Theo nodded. Allison grabbed a second torch for herself and waved Corey over. Together they started to slowly walk around the crowd, starting on the far-left side near the gate that led back down towards Wall Aimee and the forest. It looked like she was making small talk with the people she passed by, as Corey kept a careful eye on the crowd. Theo sighed and linked up with Liam and Malia. None of them would have Allison's same pull with the crowd, but they were still hunters and that counted for a good bit in Gevaudan. 

“What’s the plan?” Malia asked, still carrying her ax rather than strapping it back down across her back.

“We’re supposed to try and check the crowd with this.” Theo waved the torch a little. “We’ll just… talk to them I guess like Allison is doing.”

“Us?” Liam asked skeptically.

“Point of order?” Malia raised her ax and grinned. “I nominate Theo to be our designated talker.”

Liam grinned. “Seconded.”

“What?” Theo hissed. “Why?”

Malia shrugged, clearly pleased with herself. “We all know I’m just here to kill things. And we all know this one-“ She ruffled Liam’s hair, something she knew he usually hated from anyone but Theo. Liam glared up at her, only making Malia smile wider. “-has a bit of a temper.”

That-that was fair. Theo smiled to himself. He really couldn't argue either of those points, even if he wasn't exactly a stellar choice himself. Malia was always fond of reminding Theo that he could come off as smarmy, something she was apparently perfectly happy to overlook now if it meant she didn't have to do something she didn't want to. Theo shook his head. "Fine. Let's do this."

“I bet you he pulls a knife on someone before this is all done.” Malia laughed.

Liam snorted. “You’re on.”

Theo groaned, doing his best to ignore his friend, and his _boyfriend_ making bets about him.

They started their circuit, and Theo threw out a few mindless questions, not really focusing too much on the answers. Only apparently Malia and Liam were both perfectly happy to speak up if it meant drawing Theo further back into a conversation.

“-apples are your favorite fruit too aren’t they Theo?” Malia asked innocently, biting her lip to keep from laughing. 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Theo kept scanning the crowd. He recognized a face every so often. These people lived and worked behind Wall Aimee, and with the hunters frequently coming and going from the city they passed each other a decent amount.

The next girl they spoke to started flirting a little shamelessly with Theo, and suddenly Liam didn't seem to find the whole arrangement nearly as funny. Theo squeezed his elbow and quietly pulled him further along the circle before Liam could get too worked up. Theo caught sight of the back of a blonde head in the crowd that he thought he recognized. The man turned a little, letting Theo make out more of his profile. Theo had been right. The guy's name was…Stan? No that wasn't right-Sean maybe? He worked as one of the woodsmen cutting back the forest and helping to build on the new wall. Sean caught sight of Theo and nodded. Theo opened his mouth to say something and froze. When Sean had moved his head the light had caught his eye, reflecting off it eerily.

Something in Theo’s face must have made Sean realize the jig was up, because he took off like an arrow, racing towards the gate out of the city. He didn’t make any more effort to hide, letting his eyes shine and his fangs drop, making the crowd scatter around him.

“Allison!”

The crowd broke apart, and Theo could see Allison and Corey were already moving to block the gate. Allison was reaching for an arrow, and Corey had a big net in his hand. Theo took it all in. It took him a split second to realize that Sean would hit Allison before she could get off a clean shot. And if Sean was as strong as the other wendigos had been, he’d tear through Corey’s net like paper.

Theo launched himself at Sean's back, taking him by surprise, and just barely managing to grab onto him. Sean slashed at Theo, but Theo wrapped his arm around Sean's chest and jabbed his knife up towards the wendigo's heart. The knife went in clean, but Sean barely stumbled. Theo cursed. Were wendigo hearts on the opposite side of normal humans? He tried to remember the picture from the bestiary-

Malia went right for the head. She swung her ax full speed, barely giving Theo enough time to drop out of the way. Her ax took Sean’s head from his shoulders with a solid thunk. The head popped up into the air, and Theo saw Malia move to catch it, but someone beat her to it.

Queen Kate held the head in her hands appraisingly, unphased by the blood running down on her. The crowd gasped as they caught sight of her.

“So, this was our third wendigo?"

“Yes, your Grace.” Theo bowed his head.

“Hmm.” Kate turned Sean’s head back and forth taking in his features. If she recognized him she gave no indication. “Pity. He was cute.” Kate tossed the head to one of the guards, who didn’t quite manage to catch it in time, sending it bouncing down into the mud. “Mount it on a spike on the new wall. Let’s make it clear what happens to monsters who attack Gevaudan.”

The guard bowed, hastily picking up the head. “Yes, my queen.”

Kate turned back to Theo and Malia with a smile. "As for you all…" Kate looked over their shoulder at Allison and winked. "I think I know exactly what team of hunters we need to send to Beacon now…"


	3. Chapter 3

Scott’s whole world had been turned upside down. Less than a week ago he had been learning how to navigate the servant passages of the castle, and now here he was being led around by one of the royal stewards. The steward was a shorter, somewhat portly man. The robes he was wearing would probably have cost more than Scott's mother made in a year, tailored in rich, layered velvet, and the steward had a pair of glasses resting on the brim of his nose like Scott had seen the occasional older noble wear. Those were something the average citizen of Beacon would never have been able to afford too, or at least not easily. And the steward, as he kept reminding Scott, effectively worked for him.

"-and as I said before if there are any special dietary restrictions for you or your mother or particularly favorite dishes you would like the chefs to be made aware of please just let me know and I'll be happy to make sure the appropriate people are notified."

Scott nodded vaguely. It had been like this almost nonstop since he’d become the heir. “Right… I’ll uh, keep that in mind…”

The steward nodded, and opened another door, leading to a smaller staircase than some of the ones Scott had already passed by, but no less grand. Scott frowned, wondering what parts of the castle he could still have yet to see. The steward noticed Scott's expression and smiled.

“This way leads to the royal apartments. You’ll need to choose your rooms, then we’ll be setting you and your mother up in them.”

“Oh. Okay.” Scott’s life had become a draining whirlwind of change but picking out a new room actually sounded a little exciting. Scott followed the steward up the stairs, admiring the little patterns of wolves that had been engraved in the stone of the walls. The landing at the top of the stair opened right out into a large hallway. Sunlight flooded in from large windows on either end of the hall. The steward turned and marched down to one of the doors on the farther side. He produced a key from somewhere within the folds of his robes and slotted it into the lock. The lock was well oiled and turned easily. The steward pushed the door open, revealing a space more than double the size of Scott’s old room at home.

“What do you think of this?” The steward asked.

Scott stepped inside. As he walked farther into the room he realized it wasn’t just one room, but had several others branching off of it too. Scott looked around his eyes wide. “This is my room?”

“Oh no.” The steward looked aghast. “Forgive me, I know this isn’t much. As mother to the heir but not actually a member of the royal family herself, this would be your mother’s room. Yours will of course have other needs these couldn’t meet…”

“Oh…” Scott frowned not exactly sure what that meant.

“Will this be satisfactory for your mother?”

Scott took it all in again. All told the rooms were bigger than the entire downstairs of Scott's old house. The bed looked incredible, and there was a beautiful balcony with more sunlight streaming in. His mom could sit out there and grow some of her plants even. Assuming she even wanted to keep working. Scott grinned. "It's perfect."

“Excellent!” The steward smiled. “I’ll let the servants know to begin moving up her things.” He waved his hand and a little splash of flame shot off, like a little bird, winging its way back down the staircase.

Scott watched it leave. “That’s so cool.”

"Hmm?" The steward seemed to take a second to even realize what Scott was talking about. "Oh, that? Just a little commination spell. Hardly impressive." The steward groped around for another key in his robes and started back the way he and Scott had initially come. Scott spotted for the first time that two knights were standing outside one of the doors, dressed in their full regalia. The steward paid them no mind at all, but Scott nodded to them both politely.

The door the steward stopped at was directly opposite the one the two knights were guarding. The steward unlocked this one too and pulled the door open for Scott to see inside. Scott gaped. The room, or really _rooms_ again, was even bigger than the last set. Scott walked around inside, wondering how he would even begin to fill all of the space. Scott couldn’t wait to show them off to Stiles. It was crazy to think Scott would actually be living here.

Scott shook his head, disbelievingly. “Just look at the size of this place…”

“Yes.” The steward shifted nervously. “I do apologize for that. Lord Whittemore is currently occupying the rooms traditionally reserved for the heir to the crown and has been for some time given the situation the kingdom found itself in.” The steward smiled. “But rest assured those rooms are yours by right now, and the staff would be more than happy to find other accommodations for Lord Whittemore.”

Scott thought he saw the knights behind them stiffen strangely. He frowned. "What?" 

“I was just saying we’d be able to give you the biggest rooms if-“

“Oh!” Scott shook his head quickly. “No. No these are perfect. Way more than I probably need. They’ll be great.”

The steward eyed Scott a little strangely but nodded once. “Well, if you’re sure…”

“Yeah!” Scott said eagerly. “I’ll take these.”

The steward sent off another quick fire message, Scott figured to let the servants know which rooms to bring his own things to. It was still so weird to think that Scott had been meant to be one of those very servants…

“Excellent! Well then Prince Scott, if you’d come with me there are a few other items we need to take care of.”

“Uh, yeah…sure.” Scott tried not to balk at being called the prince. The title still seemed completely foreign to him.

The steward led Scott back down the stairs and turned down a passage leading deeper inside. There were a few twists and turns, but they finally came out into a wider hallway. Scott spotted Stiles, Deaton, and his mother already waiting there.

“Hey.” Scott smiled. “What’s going on?”

"We were just waiting for you Scott," Melissa said. She waved at the wall behind Deaton and Stiles. "I guess they need to show us something."

Scott frowned. The wall looked as nondescript as any other section of the castle they had passed through. There were two polished suits of armor on either side of the space where Deaton was standing, but that wasn’t really anything out of the ordinary. Scott had seen dozens of them placed around different parts of the castle as decoration when the steward led him around.

“If I could get the two of you to place your hands here please?” Deaton pointed to one of the stones.

Scott stepped up closer to the wall and noticed a small wolf head was carved into it. It was designed so it seemed to be looking at anyone who got close to it. Scott placed his hand on top of it like Deaton had indicated. A moment later his mom lifted her hand up next to Scott’s.

“Now what?” Scott asked.

"Just a moment my prince." Deaton turned to Stiles. "Watch my hands and copy the patterns yourself.”

Stiles nodded eagerly.

Deaton turned back to the wall, his hands flaring up with magical energy. He began to mumble under his breath, words Scott could just barely hear, but that didn't make any sense to him. Deaton's hands started to move, carving out arcane pathways in the air in front of him. Stiles copied him and followed along with the motions, but Stiles' hands weren't glowing. As Deaton continued, the floor Scott and his mother were standing on started to glow blue-white with magical energy. Scott shifted uncertainly.

“Don’t worry.” Deaton smiled at Scott. “That’s supposed to happen.”

The energy spread out from the floor, flowing up the wall in front of Scott, and rushing into the two suits of armor. Finally, the blue glow pulsed out from the wall where Scott and Melissa were touching it. The energy flowed up Scott’s arm like water, making the hair on his arm stand up. The pulse kept going, seeming to finally settle on the top of Scott’s head. Then it trickled down slowly, a perfect ring of blue flowing down over every inch of Scott’s body. He watched an identical band of energy travel down his mother, almost like it was scanning them. Scott didn’t want to ask any questions in case talking would somehow disrupt whatever it was Deaton was doing, but Stiles must have noticed Scott’s hesitation.

"He's just adding you to the threshold ward," Stiles said as if that was supposed to somehow clear it up for Scott.

When the energy rings finally made it to the floor they sunk back down into the stone, winking once. As the magic flashed Scott almost thought he saw shape a pattern in the stone, like a doorframe drawn in magic between the two suits of armor.

Deaton closed his eyes for a moment, stopping his chanting, and letting the power nimbus swirling around his hands fade away. When he opened his eyes again, he nodded. “Stiles is right. I was just adding you to the protections here so the security ward will recognize you.”

“Uh- at the risk of sounding a little silly, what exactly is a security ward? And why is one here?” Scott asked.

Deaton chuckled. “Touch the stone again.”

Scott had let his hand fall away when Deaton had finished, well whatever it was he had finished. He lifted it up again hesitantly.

“Go ahead.” Deaton smiled. “It won’t hurt you.”

Scott pressed the palm of his hand back against the wolf, and the whole wall seemed to come to life. The same magical energy as before surged up, only stronger now. The suits of armor seemed to come alive, turning to face each other and lifting up their weapons over Scott’s head. As they did, the wall jumped back maybe an inch from Scott’s hand. The little wolf carving flashed once, and then the whole wall receded into the floor. Behind it was a barrier of the same blue-white energy. Scott eyed it curiously.

"Come on." Deaton took a step forward, so he was standing next to Scott. "I'll show you what's inside.” Deaton stepped forward and disappeared into the swirl of energy.

Scott gaped at the energy. "Uh… okay.” He reached out tentatively, probing the swirling portal with just one finger. Scott felt a little surge, almost like a spark jumping up his arm as he first made contact, but otherwise, it seemed fine. He pulled his finger back out and wiggled it around. It was perfectly unscathed. Scott nodded to his mother.

She winked back at him. "Well here goes nothing huh?" She steeled herself and then stepped into the portal.

The steward walked up behind Scott, ushering him forward. “Come along my prince, it’s perfectly safe.”

Scott frowned and glanced over his shoulder. Stiles hadn't moved any closer to the door. "Aren't you coming?"

“Haha." Stiles chuckled. "No thank you. I like all my arms and legs just how they are."

Scott balked, his hand nearly back to the portal. “What?”

The steward sighed. “Mr. Stilinski, as only an apprentice to the High Wizard, isn’t authorized to enter the vault.”

Vault? Why was Scott being taken into a vault?

“Those big suits of armor there and the magic would knock me on my ass. And worse if I got insistent.” Stiles chuckled.

“Oh.” Scott eyed the suits of armor with a new sense of respect.

“Come on now.” The steward stepped forward, pulling Scott through the portal with him.

Scott blinked when they came out the other side, his eyes taking just a second to adjust to the light. There were dozens of torches lining the wall and stretching back away from the portal. Only the six or so closest to them were lit. Scott could tell the vault went back pretty far, but he couldn’t tell just how far. The vault seemed to be an odd collection of artifacts. Bookshelves were stacked high with tomes, a table in the corner looked to have dozens of highly detailed maps on it. But it was the glass cases directly ahead of Scott that grabbed his attention.

They were packed full of jewels. Not just any jewels he realized, the crown jewels. The biggest case on the end held different ceremonial crowns the king could wear, and the official scepter they used during coronations. The steward smiled when he noticed where Scott was looking.

“Someday you’ll get to wear those, but for now your choices are over here.” The steward pointed to the cases closer to Scott.

There was a huge collection of pieces, sectioned off into three different cases. The first collection was pretty and seemed to be more restrained. Some of the items were smaller than the ones in the latter cases, or they just weren’t as ostentatious. The second case held even more pieces, all of the gems sparkling with a golden glow. Scott frowned taking a closer look. All of the items in the third case were adorned with blue gemstones.

“Any piece you see here you’ll be able to wear.” The steward took Scott’s hand and pressed it up against the second case to demonstrate. The case clicked open. “Just make sure you put the pieces back when you’re finished with them. The steward motioned to the first case. “Your mother may wear any of these when she wants to. Anyone associated with the royal family who lacks the gift chooses from these, so she'll be sharing her choices with Lord Whittemore, but he tends to only pull something out for official occasions." The steward turned to the other two cases. "Anything with golden gems you're welcome to wear as it is, as someone gifted but not from the Hale bloodline that properly reflects your status. The blue gems are reserved only for Hales with the gift, but if you see a piece you like from that case our jewelers can always reset the stone. Most of the pieces have gems of both colors in storage somewhere."

Scott was pretty taken aback. “So I can just come in here and take some of these anytime I want?”

"Of course." The steward smiled. "You're a prince now."

Scott shook his head disbelievingly. “Wow…”

"And you'll never have to worry about misplacing the items or any of them being stolen." The steward continued. "Everything here is magically linked to the vault. Anything that hasn't been used in a while automatically transports itself back here." The steward nodded back to the cases. "Unfortunately this does mean sometimes you’ll have to come down and get it again if you did still want to wear it, but it’s a minor inconvenience.”

That seemed to be selling the spell short to Scott. Being able to magically guarantee no one stole from you and that you didn’t lose anything was incredible. Scott wondered how much effort a spell like that had taken to set up. From what little Stiles had told him about spell craft and the necessary work that went into it, Scott had to believe it was a lot. 

"Anyway, now that have access to the vault, you’re free to use it at your discretion." The steward said. "But you should hold off now. We need to go meet one of the king's aides at the royal tailor's."

“Why the tailor’s?” Scott asked curiously.

"The King wants to help ensure a smooth transition for you from an ordinary citizen of our fine city to its new prince. As part of that, the King and his aides have been strategizing about how best to gradually adjust your style."

“Oh… “ Scott wasn’t exactly sure what that would entail, but the idea of possibly getting new clothes was pretty exciting. “Okay then.”

The steward nodded politely. "We should really go to meet them now."

“Right.” Scott glanced over at his mother. “I guess I’ll see you later?”

Melissa smiled and waved Scott off. "Go ahead, sweetie. I'll find you later tonight for dinner.”

The steward bowed stiffly to Melissa and turned back to the portal. Scott hurried after him. Stiles was still waiting outside the portal to the vault when they came out, leaning up languidly against the wall opposite. The steward didn’t stop to acknowledge Stiles at all, he simply took off down the corridor at a brisk walk. Stiles winked at Scott and nodded. Scott gave his friend a quick wave back and jogged a couple of steps to catch up with the steward. The last thing Scott wanted was to fall too far behind and to get lost. The servant passages, woven through the walls of the castle like veins, had all had pictures at least as a crude guide for Scott to follow when he first started working in the stables. But apparently, that kind of indicator was seen as too tacky to be visible in the halls of the palace proper. The main corridors of the castle had just as many twists and turns as the servant passages, but none of the help in navigating where you were going. Scott tried his best to memorize the routes the steward was taking him on, but he had a feeling there would be a lot of wandering around lost in his immediate future.

The tailor, as it happened, wasn’t located in the castle at all. The steward led Scott down out of the castle into the upper ring of Beacon. Scott assumed they would just be walking to the shop, wherever it was, but the steward stopped to let two servants drive up a handsome carriage pulled by two large, well-groomed horses. Scott thought he recognized one of them from his brief foray into the stables. One of the servants grabbed the door and pulled out a small step for Scott and the steward to climb inside. The steward hurried up onto the seat, but Scott paused sheepishly as the servant dipped into a steep bow when Scott moved onto the step. Only a few days ago that might have been Scott…

“You don’t need to do that.” Scott tried for an easy smile, but the servant looked at Scott nervously, like he’d suddenly sprouted a second head.

“Of course, he does.” The steward sighed impatiently. “You’re the Prince of Beacon now.” The steward shook his head when Scott finally took the seat opposite him. “We’ll have to start your etiquette lessons sooner than I thought.”

Scott flushed with embarrassment.

Another servant shut the door to the coach, and then with a lurch, they were off. Scott had never traveled like this before. The carriage rode incredibly smooth. Scott pulled back the curtains on a small window in the door to peek outside. The people in the upper ring of Beacon always looked so elegant and important. Only now Scott noticed several of them were looking and pointing at the coach. It felt so strange to be one of these people now. Inside Scott still felt the same as he always had, but now through some strange genetic quirk, he was a prince. Scott let the curtain fall back into place and looked down at his own hands instead. He concentrated for a second and managed to extend claws from the fingers on his right hand. Scott glanced up and saw the steward watching him, the man’s eyes on Scott’s claws with a strange expression somewhere between awe and envy. Scott relaxed and let the claws slip away. That was still significantly easier than bringing them out. Keeping them out felt like clenching his fist, muscles pulled taut. Scott didn't know if it would always be like that, or if it would get easier with practice. The King was really the only person who would be able to tell Scott, and Scott hadn’t seen much of him since the sendoff for the Kitsune delegation.

After sending agents chasing off to catch the would-be assassin the King had approached Scott. He'd been every bit the kind, magnanimous man Scott had always believed him to be. King Peter had been eager to talk to Scott and help him transition into his new role as the prince, but the hunt for the assassin and a whirl of security assessments after the failed attack had kept the King busy. Still, he had promised Scott they’d get the chance to talk more once things had calmed down a little. Scott was looking forward to it. All of the changes in his life were starting to feel a little overwhelming. He could use all the help adjusting he could get.

The shop the carriage finally stopped in front of was one of the biggest ones Scott had seen, even compared to others in the upper ring. It was a monstrosity of polished hardwood and stone. The door to the store opened as soon as the carriage stopped. A servant in finer clothes than Scott wore held the door open for them as the palace steward ushered Scott out of the carriage. Scott looked around as best he could as the steward hurried him along. There were whole bolts of fine and expensive fabrics, some with patterns and colors Scott had never even seen before. The servant led them further into the store, turning off to a room with a wall of mirrors, letting someone see their reflection from every angle. Scott gaped. Those mirrors alone would be worth a small fortune. A studious looking man with a tape measure was standing in the middle of the room. He smiled when he noticed Scott. Next to him was a woman. Her expression didn’t change in the slightest when she saw Scott. She looked almost bored. That made her one of the only people Scott had run into since his sudden ascension to prince that didn’t seem in awe of him. Scott noticed a signet ring with the personal crest of the king on her right hand. The woman looked away from Scott and glared at the steward behind him.

“You’re late.”

“Apologies.” The steward didn’t bow, but he did hastily tuck his head a little. “We fell behind schedule with-

The woman glowered at him. “Just see that it doesn’t happen again.”

The steward nodded urgently. “Of course.”

The woman turned back to Scott, giving him a disdainful once over. “Will you be able to work with this Marcel?”

The shopkeeper chuckled genially. "You know full well I can work miracles with threads, dear Jennifer." Marcel waved Scott forward, getting him to climb up onto the slightly raised platform in front of the mirrors. “Now…” he brandished his tape measure at Scott like some of the knights Scott had seen in the training yards with swords. “Let’s get your sizes then.” Marcel reached out and measured one of Scott’s arms. Then he simply let go of the tape measure to jot down the number he needed.

Scott gaped a little as the tape measure stayed frozen in place, hovering right next to his arm. It was clearly magic. Looking a little closer at the tape measure Scott could see a faint glow coming off of it. Scott didn't know if the magic was coming from Marcel himself or if the tape measure was some kind of charmed object another wizard had made for him. Regardless, it was the kind of casual magic Scott had seen being practiced throughout the upper ring. Magic was a resource like anything else, and it was clearly more plentiful with the rich and powerful of Beacon. Scott could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd seen magic being used in the lower levels of the city- and most of that was from Stiles. Anyone who possessed a talent for magic got recruited for the academy right away, and usually secured a spot for themselves in some noble household or other in the upper ring after they graduated. Stiles' direct apprenticeship to Deaton made him one of the few exceptions. The only one really, that Scott could think of. Lost in thought, Scott watched distantly as the tape measure darted around his body measuring the rest of him.

“Inseam.”

The tape measure flashed down from Scott's neck and stood itself up against Scott's leg. Scott jumped a little in shock when the tape measure slid the rest of the way up his leg and pressed firmly against his most intimate area. Marcel winked at Scott. Scott blushed and revised his opinion on whether or not Marcel was controlling the tape measure.

Marcel snapped his fingers, and the tape measure quickly wrapped itself around the girth of Scott's thigh.

“Well?” Jennifer gave Marcel a pointed look. “What do you think?”

Marcel reached a hand out and the tape measure flew off of Scott’s leg and coiled itself around Marcel’s wrist. “We should make the transition gradually. Dress him nicer, but try and keep the man of the people appeal as we make him into a proper prince.”

Jennifer nodded curtly. “The King will want at least a few nicer outfits for the tournament days. Will you have enough time?”

“I should. I have pieces I can modify to his measurements that should look good on him.” Marcel nodded once, giving Scott another quick once over. “What about heraldry? We’ll want him to have a cloak with a coat of arms for the tourney right?”

"The King is still deciding how to proceed with that," Jennifer said. "You'll know as soon as he'd made a decision."

Marcel sighed quietly. “Of course. Just so long as it’s not _too_ close to the tournament-“

"I'm sorry," Scott jumped in, drawing frowns from both Jennifer and Marcel. They'd been talking like they'd forgotten Scott was still in the room. Scott smiled. "Uh, what are you talking about? What tournament?"

***

Jackson ducked the sword swinging for his head and brought his gauntleted fist around. The steel chimed and rattled as Jackson’s fist connected with his opponent’s pauldron. The other knight faltered, tumbling back. Jackson pounced, pressing his advantage, with a quick kick to the shin. The knight fell back onto the dirt, driving up a plume of dust in the training yard. Jackson twirled his sword in his hand and looked down at him.

“I give.” A muffled chuckle echoed out of the knight’s large, closed helm.

Jackson grinned and tossed his dulled training sword to one of the squires watching from the sidelines. They fumbled for a second but managed to catch it. Jackson reached down a hand to the knight still lying in the dirt. “That was better Mason.”

Mason flipped open his helmet, and shook his head, smiling at Jackson ruefully. “You still trounced me.”

“Everyone has someone better than them.” Jackson shrugged.

Mason pulled his helm off. Some of the dust from the training yard had seeped inside, dusting his face and neck. Sweat beaded on his brow, and ran down his face, cutting dark furrows through the chalky dirt. Mason nodded to Jackson pointedly. “Not everybody.”

"I don't know about that." Jackson laughed. He took pride in being the best swordsman among the knights of Beacon. But didn't think what he'd told Mason was wrong either. Someday in a battle, Jackson would face off against someone better than him, and when that day came he had to make sure he was ready.

Mason rolled his eyes, not quite seeming to buy Jackson’s notion. “You want to go again?”

“Sure.” Jackson nodded back towards one of the few small buildings in the big training yard. “I’m going to grab a drink first though. You want anything?” Mason nodded thankfully. Jackson smiled back at him. “Wouldn’t want you to say you weren’t properly hydrated when I beat you again.”

“Just because it will probably happen doesn’t mean it will!” Mason laughed. As Jackson turned to leave Mason strolled over to one of the other knights who had been watching their bout for help adjusting one of the leather straps on his armor.

Jackson walked across the yard to one of the buildings that circled the field. A servant came running up as Jackson stepped inside, carrying a pitcher of water and two battered mugs that looked like they had probably been in the knights’ garrison since it was first built. Jackson nodded his thanks and downed one of the mugs in a single gulp. Jackson reached down to refill it when sudden happy cheering broke out from the training yard. Jackson frowned. Just a few moments later Jackson heard the distinct sound of blunted training swords colliding. Jackson refilled his mug thoughtfully. Maybe Mason had found another knight to spar with. That didn’t quite explain the excitement Jackson had heard though.

When Jackson stepped back out into the midday sun the reason for the cheering became apparent. The King was in the training yard. Not only that, but he’d taken up a training sword himself, facing off against Mason, and Jordan, one of the garrison’s more experienced knights. Jackson’s knights were circling the King, cautious smiles on their faces. Other knights from the garrison were flocking over to watch the spectacle. It wasn’t very often the King bothered to take up a sword. Jackson took up a position in the circle forming around the fighters, setting the two mugs of water he’d been carrying down onto the ground. Jackson folded his arms over his chest and watched as the King let Mason and Jordan circle him. The King’s crown glinted in the sunlight, and his eyes flashed red. For a moment King Peter seemed to catch Jackson’s eye. Then he lunged.

King Peter ignored Mason for the moment, focusing first on the bigger threat in Jordan. The King leaped up higher than any normal man ever could, and managed to sail cleanly over Jordan's shoulders, landing in a crouch behind him. Jordan reacted as fast as he could, bringing his sword around in a vicious swing toward the King's chest. However King Peter had talked Jordan and Mason into this little demonstration, it was clear the knights had been told not to hold back. Even so, Jackson knew it was just a demonstration to the King. As quick as Jordan had been in adjusting, and launching his attack, the King was faster. At the last possible second Peter brought his own sword up and caught Jordan's on the flat of his blade, absorbing the full momentum of Jordan's swing almost effortlessly.

The reverberation from his aborted strike made Jordan stumble back. It was only a half step, but it was all the opening the King needed. Moving like water he flowed in past Jordan’s guard and knocked the knight down onto the ground. Seeing this, Mason charged around at the King’s back, trying to get Jordan some space. Without even turning around King Peter kicked Jordan’s sword out of his hand and sent it hurtling back towards Mason’s feet. Mason stumbled, unprepared for the attack, and clotheslined himself when the King thrust his arm out right in front of Mason.

Mason grunted and tumbled backward. The King reached out with preternatural speed and grabbed the front of Mason's armor as he fell. In a ridiculous display of strength, the King whipped Mason around and threw him bodily at Jordan, who had just been finding his feet. The two knights collided and collapsed onto the ground in a pile of clanging armor. King Peter sauntered over and stood above them, his sword lazily held out in front of him.

The King smiled. “I believe I win gentlemen.”

The crowd around the sparring match started to cheer. Mason, when he finally untangled himself from Jordan, grinned broadly and joined in. Jackson suppressed a grimace. While that little martial show might have made the King look good it had made Jackson’s knights look like dupes. Jackson wasn’t thrilled to have the men and women he trained with day in and day out be made to look like fools. Jackson sighed, even it seemed, if they didn’t see it themselves…most of his knights were clapping along with the crowd. Isaac, Boyd, and Erica were all notably not clapping though, standing together at the far corner of the crowd. Jordan wasn’t either, he shot Jackson a guilty look as he stood up, which Jackson waved away. It wasn’t Jordan’s fault the King had used the knights to show off. And frankly, Jackson doubted it was entirely for the crowd’s benefit. His suspicions were confirmed a moment later when King Peter wandered over towards Jackson.

The King smiled warmly. “You’ve been training your men well Jackson.”

“Thank you, Uncle.” Jackson knew how he was supposed to play this sort of thing in public. And if the King was being generous with his praise it usually meant he wanted something from Jackson, something that apparently necessitated him coming down to the training yard to pull Jackson into his plans… interesting.

King Peter threw an arm around Jackson’s shoulder good-naturedly, but Jackson could feel the weight of the King’s armor even through his own. “I was hoping you’d join me for lunch.” He turned and smiled back out at the crowd. “I hope your men won’t mind me stealing you away from them for a little while.”

_Even if they did, they could hardly say it._ Jackson thought and put on his best fake smile. "I think they can manage. Jordan can you take over training while I'm gone?"

“Yes sir.” Jordan nodded.

“Well then-“ King Peter spread his arms wide as if he'd actually been waiting to get approval from Jackson before spiriting him away to whatever private meeting he intended to have over lunch. "-let's be on our way, Jackson! I'd hate to keep the poor cooks waiting." He chuckled like he was telling a joke, drawing even more smiles from the crowd.

“Of course, Uncle.” Jackson followed him reluctantly away from the training yard. Peter led him around the grounds and towards the palace's extensive gardens. The gardens covered several acres, and on a normal day, any number of nobles and high-ranking merchants who called the upper ring of the city home might have enjoyed them. Today though, they were empty. Jackson spotted two guards on the perimeter as he followed the King, and Jackson felt safe assuming there were many more he didn't see. Peter led Jackson to one of the larger clearings along the garden path, and Jackson saw a table had been erected there. There were only two chairs, but the table was laden with enough food to feed half a dozen of Jackson’s knights after they’d done a full day of training. Peter strode purposefully forward and claimed the larger of the two chairs. He waved at Jackson to take the second one.

When Jackson stepped within a foot of the table, he felt a sudden pressure on his ears, that gave way with a little pop when he finally sat down. Jackson recognized the sure sign of a silence ward in place. Whatever it was King Peter wanted to discuss over lunch he clearly hadn’t wanted anyone else to overhear. Peter eyed Jackson carefully from across the table.

Jackson cleared his throat. “Is all this really necessary?”

"Hm." Peter's smile showed off his canines. "Given recent events, I'm not taking any chances." Peter's eyes darkened. "What have you heard about our would-be assassin?"

“Nothing…” Jackson frowned. “I assumed you must have him locked up somewhere in secret…” From the way Peter asked Jackson realized that probably wasn’t the case.

The King let out a growl of frustration. “He’s vanished.” Peter snapped his fingers like a low-level magic-user might do performing at a children's party. "Seemingly into thin air."

“The city watch hasn’t been able to locate any sign of him?” Jackson asked cautiously. If Peter had come to Jackson with this, and the assassin really had vanished, then the King must have some theory in mind.

“Stilinski and his men have made me seriously question the amount of tax revenue I devote to funding their little band.“ Peter reached for a grape from one of the plates and stabbed it with the foreclaw on his right hand. It was the kind of inelegant gesture he would never have made in front of the rest of the city. Jackson waited quietly, letting the King seethe at the city watch. Privately, Jackson knew them to be overworked and understaffed for the rate at which Beacon was growing, but there was no sense in telling the King that. Peter swallowed the grape and sighed, leaning back in his chair dramatically. He stared at Jackson pointedly, his eyebrows raised.

Jackson inwardly cringed. Apparently, this was one of the times where he was supposed to leap forward and pledge to solve the King's problem for him. The real problem, at least for Jackson, was King Peter's inconsistency. One minute he would bite Jackson's head off for daring to suggest help, and the next he'd act like it was Jackson's sacred duty to provide it. Even after these years Jackson still sometimes misread the man's signals. Jackson summoned up a stiff smile. "How can I be of service?"

Peter nodded. “Starting tonight I want your knights patrolling the city.”

“Not the city watch?” Jackson had to fight to keep the surprise off his face. Beacon’s knights were its finest fighting force, their army, not a patrol force.

“The watch is welcome to do their jobs as well.” Peter brushed aside Jackson’s question. “Though they certainly haven’t so far.”

Jackson didn’t know what to make of the King’s decree. Jackson didn’t like it, but the knights were the King’s to command as he saw fit. But it all just seemed strange to Jackson. How had the assassin vanished? There was only one way out of Beacon- the lake. No one should have been able to slip out unnoticed. Was the assassin still hiding somewhere in the city then? But if they were then surely the city watch should have found them by now? The men of the watch had all grown up inside the city and knew nooks and crannies Jackson and his knights would never be able to find. His knights were fighters, not hunters. So why did the King want them to take over the search? Peter glared over at Jackson, and Jackson realized he had let the silence drag on too long. He bowed his head stiffly. “I’ll start drawing up patrols as soon as I get back my King.”

“Good.” Peter picked lazily at one of his fingernails, using a long claw to gouge some of the dirt out from under the nail. He held his hand back for a second to get a better look. “There is one other thing you’ll do for me.”

“Of course…”

Peter smiled over at Jackson, looking like a predator even without shifting. “You will train the McCall boy. My new heir.”

Jackson felt his face heat up a little at the unspoken reminder that Jackson had not, and would never hold that title. “Train him in what my King?”

“Swordplay.” Peter smiled wider. “Beacon will be throwing a grand tournament in honor of his discovery, and I mean to have him participate.”

That wasn’t entirely unexpected. Still, it was the first Jackson was hearing of it. “When will the tournament be?”

“The ceremonies will commence in one week.”

“One _week_?” Jackson snapped. “You expect me to be able to teach a commoner how to fight in-“

Peter stood suddenly, his eyes flashing red. The entire table vibrated when he spoke. “I _expect_ ,” he growled, “that you will do what I require of you.”

“Of course, my King.” Jackson ducked his head urgently, down and to the side. Showing his throat. It wasn’t the formal measure of respect from a subject to a king, but prey acknowledging a predator. It was how you begged a werewolf’s forgiveness. The gesture was second nature now in Beacon after so many years.

Peter eased himself back down into his seat, smiling knowingly. “Scott will be ready to fight in the tournament then?”

Jackson nodded. “I’ll see to it personally.”

“See that you do.” Peter picked up another bundle of grapes and popped a few in his mouth. Jackson reluctantly started to fill his own plate. Peter smiled and clapped his hand. “Oh, and there is one other thing I suppose… on the day of the tournament Scott will need to be formally knighted. You know how much the people will love that." Peter's eyes glittered across the table at Jackson. "I trust that won't be a problem either?"

“No, my King.” Jackson swallowed the cracker he’d bitten into, his stomach churning. “No problem at all.”

***

“Concentrate.”

Stiles’ eyes were closed. Deaton’s voice seemed to drift through the darkness around him.

“Visualize the process. Focus your mana…”

Stiles' brow furrowed. Mana control was the first and most important lesson any mage learned, the lesson that became a lifelong project. Mana, at its most basic, was just energy. It was all untapped potential. When a person ate food, or had something to drink the human body broke everything down into component parts, and stored it all away to use later. It was the engine that powered everything a person did. Moving your arm took energy, so did casting a spell. Wherever it came from, certain people in Beacon were born with the ability to tap into the energy their body stored not just with their muscles and joints, but with their minds. Stiles took a deep breath, and opened the door in his mind, letting some of the energy trickle out.

Accessing his mana, that raw energy coursing through his body, came easily for Stiles. Too easily. It wasn’t uncommon in Beacon for people to first discover they had the gift for magic by accessing the power unconsciously. In a moment of stress or extreme emotion, they would pull on power they didn’t even know they had. But for most mages, after that first burst of power, calling on their mana took years of practice and careful study. For Stiles though, the connection was just always there. Unfortunately, it meant he still frequently pulled on his mana without realizing it. It hadn’t been just one or two fires that made people start calling him “Spark”. If Stiles wasn’t careful his mana would still just bubble up unconsciously, usually whenever he let his mind wander or had any kind of intense feeling… It was just one of the reasons Stiles so often managed to embarrass himself in front of Lydia Martin.

“Now…“ Deaton’s voice wafted back through Stiles’ thoughts. “Begin with Melkin’s Dancing Flame…”

Stiles’ hands flowed through the pattern, and he mumbled the incantation under his breath. If mana was the raw energy of a spell, the words and hand gestures were what guided the energy to do what the mage wanted. Stiles felt the familiar surge in his blood as the spell completed. He opened his eyes. A flame about the size of his open palm was hovering steadily in front of him.

Deaton nodded. “Start with two rotations.”

Stiles flexed his fingers. He concentrated, and the small ball of flame began to trace a lazy circle around the room. They were practicing in one of Deaton’s rooms inside the palace. Deaton was pacing around the room while Stiles sat dead center on the stone floor. The High Wizard had a whole suite above the palace library, including sleeping chambers, an enormous study, and a large practice room with old runes etched into the stonework. Stiles wasn’t exactly sure how the magic worked, but any spell that went wild and collided with one of the stones would simply wink out. It was a pretty handy thing to have around. Stiles had heard they had a couple of rooms like this at the academy too, but in his brief time at the academy he’d never actually been inside one to be able to compare them. Stiles watched the flame’s progress, keeping careful focus to keep it under control.

“Good.” Deaton snapped his fingers and the flame shot back to the center of the room. “Now add two more.”

Stiles concentrated, popping two more little balls of flame into existence. The first flame he’d conjured wavered violently for a moment, flickering and sputtering off a gout of smoke, but Stiles managed to wrangle it back under control. Maintaining the spell with three orbs was much more difficult. Melkin’s Dancing Flame wasn’t the most efficient spell. Stiles had read the original copy of the spell in one of Deaton’s old spellbooks. Whoever Melkin had been, he’d clearly thought very highly of himself, inventing a new spell which he proclaimed, “would revolutionize the use of fireballs in combat.” In reality, Melkin’s spell was so unwieldy it never saw any use outside of a classroom. Melkin’s spell did what he wanted it to, granting whatever wizard cast it complete control over the fireballs they conjured, but it was designed badly, and the mana use was so inefficient that even master wizards like Deaton could only conjure about a dozen fireballs the size Stiles was working with. Melkin had fallen victim to the same fate most would be spell crafters did, there were simply older, more efficient spells.

Still, creating a new spell was always a rite of passage for a wizard, a final proof that you understood the craft well enough to make something new. Students at the academy routinely took a crack at making their own new and improved spell as part of the final graduation exam, but most of them were duds. Melkin’s Dancing Flame had at least found a role as a training exercise, the difficulty in maintaining the mana channels that had kept it out of combat proving to be a useful teaching tool. Most student-created spells though didn't even achieve that level of notoriety. With hundreds of years of recorded magical study, for most spells, there was simply a better, older alternative. Every once in a while, though a wizard would come along with a particular knack for working out new spells. Stiles’ mother had created over a dozen spells in her tenure as High Wizard that had all become staples in the wizarding community, covering everything from cleaning to a stasis snare.

“Let’s change the colors up shall we?”

Stiles caught the amused note in Deaton's voice and smiled himself. Melkin would probably roll over in his grave if he knew that a student at the academy three years ago had added a modification to the Dancing Flame spell that let the wizard change the color of the fire. It had no practical purpose, but the teachers who used Melkin’s dancing flame as a training tool had readily embraced it as another useful tool to train students on channeling and controlling their mana. Stiles' hands flashed through a series of quick gestures, adding the color-changing channel. It gave him a sort of cross-eyed feeling, splitting his focus in two. With his right hand, he kept the flames circling the room, and with an effort, his left took over working the color casting.

At first only one of the flames changed color, the orb closest to Stiles flashing a fluorescent green. Stiles bit his lip and kept focusing. He managed to make the second orb blue and then reached for the third one. That was where it all fell apart. As Stiles’ reached for his original ball of flame his focus slipped. The other two collided, exploding in a burst of blue and green light. Stiles managed to yank his sole remaining fire orb away from the conflagration, but Deaton dispersed it with the rest of the fire with a swipe of his hand.

“Not bad.” Deaton smiled down at Stiles. He reached out to offer Stiles a hand up. "Most mages at your level wouldn't have been able to pull off the two colors."

Stiles took Deaton's hand and shrugged. "I still didn't get to three."

“Yes…” Deaton eyed Stiles inquisitively. “I am curious, why did you choose to change each color separately?”

“What?” Stiles frowned. “You said to…“

Deaton shook his head. “I told you to change the color. You could easily have followed through on the letter of my request by simply changing all three orbs to the same color simultaneously. Why go for three instead?”

“I-“ Stiles stumbled. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. He’d thought Deaton’s instructions had been so clear… Stiles cringed. “I guess I didn’t think of it?”

Deaton chuckled and opened the heavy door out of the practice room. Even it had deep runic wards carved into it.

“Sorry, Master.”

"Never apologize for seeing the world differently." Deaton shook his head, his eyes going a little distant. He seemed to come back to himself a moment later and smiled over at Stiles. “We need more of that in the world not less. Your mother used to be the exact same way…”

Stile bowed his head towards Deaton. Comparisons to his mother were always a double-edged sword for Stiles. On the one hand, Stiles knew Deaton meant it as a compliment, and Stiles loved that he could be like her, could share something with her even now that she was gone. But those comparisons usually came with a whole host of expectations too, ones Stiles wasn't sure he would ever be able to meet. His mother had been a magical prodigy, and one of the best High Wizards Beacon had seen. Stiles still tended to start accidental fires. “Thank you, sir," Stiles said stiffly.

Deaton studied Stiles for a minute more and then nodded. “Come with me, there are some things we need to go over.”

Stiles hurried after Deaton. “What things sir?”

“Arrangements for the King.” Deaton led the way down the spiral staircase. The library beneath the High Wizard’s chambers was quiet like a tomb, showing no signs of life. Deaton strode out towards the exit, Stiles tagging along behind him.

Stiles frowned. “What does the King need?”

Deaton smiled knowingly. Stiles fought the urge to roll his eyes. It was the same look the High Wizard always got whenever Stiles asked too many questions during one of their lessons.

“The King is making a speech tonight.”

“Oh…” Stiles followed as Deaton lead them out into the castle’s largest courtyard. There were a few benches scattered around, but otherwise, the courtyard had been cleared out of the usual market stalls and merchant stands, giving Stiles a good view of the large wolf set into the cobblestones, black stone against white. The courtyard's other distinguishing feature was the balcony. Two stories above the ground level an ornate terrace loomed out over the courtyard. It was made of the same stone as the rest of the castle and flowed seamlessly back into the larger structure, but Stiles could feel the magical energy coming off of it. The usual charms of sonic enhancement had been cast on kings and queens on the balcony so many times over the centuries that the magic had seeped into the stone itself. Now even without magic or any new magic at least, if you stood right at the balcony's railing everyone down below in the courtyard would be able to hear you speak just as clearly as if you were standing right next to them.

Deaton nodded up at the balcony. “The King wants us to work some spells for tonight.”

"Why is the King giving a speech?" Stiles frowned, as he caught up to the rest of what Deaton had just said. "What spells? I thought the balcony's magic worked on its own now?"

"Protection spells," Deaton said grimly. "After the attempted attack by the lake the King isn't taking any chances…This will be a good opportunity for you to see these kinds of spells being put together. And besides, the king wants all of Beacon to hear him tonight, not just the people gathered here.”

Stiles nodded absently. He couldn’t remember Deaton or anyone else having ever preemptively cast protection spells for the King like this before. With all of his werewolf abilities the King just didn’t need it. So what had changed? Had the attack when the Kitsune delegation was leaving shaken the King that much?

“We’ll start with the Jed’ai deflection…”

Deaton’s words yanked Stiles out of his thoughts. He could wonder about nonsense later. Stiles hastily started copying Deaton’s hand motions, teaching himself the flow of the spell. Right now, he had work to do.

***

Jackson would have been waiting outside of the tailor’s for over an hour if he hadn’t planned carefully. It wouldn’t do for Jackson to be seen standing around expectantly for McCall or whatever this new heir’s name was. Jackson had no doubt word would have raced around the court before the day was out, and it would have set a dangerous precedent. Jackson’s position was uncertain enough now as things were without him helping it along by being careless. Luckily the restaurant across the street from Marcel's was owned by a man friendly to Jackson. Jackson had helped put the place on the map when it first opened, bringing Lydia and some of his few other friends from amongst the nobility there to eat. Now it was considered one of the most cutting-edge places to dine in the upper ring. In return, the owner had furnished Jackson with a key to one of the two apartments upstairs. The owner lived in the larger set of rooms with his family, but Jackson had taken the other key for the gift that it was. Over the years he’d used the room for more discreet romantic liaisons when necessary. At first, Jackson had just been testing the waters, making sure that if the man planned to sell Jackson's secrets Jackson didn't give him anything of real value. But no whispers of Jackson's hookups, at least not these ones, had ever leaked out into Beacon's voracious gossip network. The restaurant's owner had always known the goodwill he'd bought with Jackson by not only giving him this space but respecting his privacy on top. Jackson still came here for lunch sometimes when the mood struck him. Today the owner hadn't batted an eye when Jackson had stepped into the restaurant and slipped out to the private staircase in the back.

There were two small windows in the little hideaway, and usually, Jackson kept the curtains pulled down. Today though, one was partially open. One of the windows had an excellent view of the street down below, and Jackson peeked out of it carefully, keeping his eyes peeled. Once it was clear McCall was getting ready to leave the tailor’s Jackson wound have to be quick or he’d risk losing him. Jackson was walking a bit of a tightrope. With anyone else Jackson might have been able to just stroll into Marcel's and insist they come with him, but Scott was being dragged out to Marcel's on the King's orders, and there was no way Jackson could trump that, even with Jackson having new orders from the King himself to train McCall up. Alternately, it would be fairly easy for Jackson to track McCall down once he was back at the castle, but then the King had been very clear Jackson wasn’t supposed to waste any time in getting McCall ready for the big tournament Peter was planning, and Jackson didn’t want to risk testing that. With all the packages that would probably need to be loaded back into the carriage, Jackson could sprint down to the street as soon he saw them and then stroll up purposefully. It wouldn't hurt that Jackson had slipped one of the shop workers a copper coin too, when he’d first arrived and seen them outside at Marcel’s, to pack things up a little slower.

Finally, Jackson saw movement across the street. One of the shop workers had just stepped outside and passed a wrapped package up into the carriage. Jackson let the curtain fall back into place and bolted downstairs. He managed to duck through the restaurant’s dining room without incident and made it out onto the street just in time to see McCall and one of the royal stewards stepping out of the shop. Greenberg? Was that the steward? Jackson made a point to remember all of them, you never knew when a connection could be useful, but from this distance, he couldn't be sure. Jackson hurried across the street, purposefully placing himself so he'd be walking in front of the carriage's path if it started to pull away quickly.

“Lord Whittemore!” Greenberg spotted him first and bowed steeply. “What a wonderful surprise. What brings you to Marcel’s? Getting some new clothes for the tournament?”

"I'm afraid not." Jackson smiled warmly. The McCall boy seemed uncertain of what to do. He started to bow to Jackson too, only to be hastily pulled up by Greenberg. Jackson smiled wider. “There’s no need for that.”

"Lord Whittemore is a ward of the crown and obviously the head of his own noble house, but as heir, you outrank him now." Greenberg hastily explained.

McCall flushed. “Oh, right…”

Greenberg sighed. “We really must start your etiquette lessons as soon as possible. Maybe when we get back to the palace we can-“

“I’m afraid I have to steal him from you.” Jackson smiled magnanimously. “By order of the King.”

“Oh.” Greenberg’s face fell, but he covered it quickly. “Of course then.” Greenberg nodded to McCall. “I’ll see to it that everything is properly transported back to your rooms at the castle then.”

“Thank you.” Scott smiled at Greenberg easily, seemingly without any of the political calculus Jackson had always been taught. “I appreciate that.”

“Of course, Prince Scott.” Greenberg bowed deeply. “It’s my job after all.”

“Come on,” Jackson slung his arm around McCall’s- no, Jackson quickly corrected himself- _Scott’s_ shoulders and steered him around towards the training yard. It was an overly familiar gesture, but Greenberg had just proven Scott wouldn’t know any better. And Jackson knew that when the fine citizens of Beacon’s upper ring saw it rumors would fly like wildfire. Being perceived as having a close relationship with the new prince could only help Jackson. Especially if it actually _did_ get him closer to Scott. Jackson had seen him hanging around the castle with Stilinski once or twice, but Jackson wasn’t sure he had any other actual friends. Scott would have people clamoring for his love and attention now, but Jackson could present himself as a kind mentor figure, someone who had been through the sort of things Scott was dealing with now, and let Scott come to him. Jackson smiled. “The King wants you to learn how to fight.”

Jackson led Scott around on a slightly longer route back to the training yard. Jackson watched him along the way. Scott seemed in awe of every little thing he saw in the upper ring. Jackson almost doubted his reactions, but there was an honest earnestness to Scott’s responses that was impossible to fake. Jackson shook his head. If the new prince of Beacon couldn’t see a decent well without being taken aback, the city was going to eat him alive. Jackson finally turned them into the training yard and resisted the urge to sigh. Most of Jackson’s actual knights had cleared out for the day, some of them heading out on the new patrols of the city the King had insisted on. It was probably for the best. Jackson had a feeling he would have his work cut out for him training McCall. Jackson picked up two of the blunted training swords and tossed one to Scott. “Here.”

Scott caught it, if only barely. He swung it around a little, testing the feel of it. He frowned when Jackson squared up with him and raised his own sword. “Shouldn’t we have armor on too?” Scott asked. He was blushing a little again. “…Don’t knights wear armor?”

Jackson laughed. “You’re not ready for that just yet. Even with werewolf strength, you’re going to want to know the basics first.”

“Okay…”

“Here.” Jackson adjusted his stance a little. “Just try and hit me.”

“Won’t that hurt?”

Jackson chuckled. “The swords are blunted. They might bruise, but they won’t cause any permanent injuries.”

“What about…” Scott eyed Jackson uncertainly. “I mean you just said I have werewolf strength…”

Jackson resisted the urge to smile. “I don’t think it’s going to matter just yet.”

“If you say so…” Scott lifted his sword tentatively.

“C’mon.” Jackson waved Scott forward. “Take a swing.”

Scott wrapped both hands around his sword and took a few quick steps towards Jackson. He pulled back, putting his whole body behind the swing, and thrust his sword out at Jackson.

Jackson pivoted just a couple of degrees and Scott's sword went sailing by him. Scott, suddenly overbalanced, started to tumble forward. Jackson helped him along, aiming his sword for the back of Scott's knee and giving him a hard smack. Scott landed face down in the dirt of the training yard. He sputtered there for a second before Jackson offered him a hand up. “Here.” Jackson helped Scott brush a little of the dirt off, but knew it wouldn’t be the last time he fell. “Now, what do you think you did wrong?”

Scott frowned. “I…I moved too slowly?”

Jackson shook his head. “Speed isn’t everything. A little at the right time is more valuable than running yourself ragged.” Jackson motioned for Scott to hold out his sword again. “Your first problem is your swing." Jackson held his own sword out in front of Scott one-handed and demonstrated several quick swings. "You're swinging with your whole body and tripping yourself up. Just swing with your arm." Jackson sheathed his sword, and put his hands on Scott’s shoulder, guiding his arm through the motions. “See how that feels different?”

“Yeah.” Scott’s face lit up a little. Jackson tried not to roll his eyes. It was like training a puppy. Even Mason hadn’t been this bad when he had first started.

"You can't rely on two hands to swing either," Jackson said. "Most of the time you fight you'll be carrying a shield on your off arm. And that's definitely how it will be for the tournament."

“You know about the tournament?” Scott turned around towards Jackson and almost smacked Jackson in the face with the tip of his practice sword. “What is it for?”

“For you.” Jackson sighed. “And for the King. He’s throwing it to announce you officially as his heir.”

“Oh.” Scott frowned. “Why hadn’t anyone told me that then?”

“The King is officially announcing it tonight.”

“When will the tournament be?” Scott asked.

Jackson shrugged. “Whenever the King decides.”

“What do you mean?”

“If the King is holding a tournament it means a big prize in gold to whoever wins it," Jackson explained. "A lot of people will want to take a chance at that. They’ll all need time to get here.”

Scott paused. “How much gold?”

“Doesn’t matter to you.” Jackson laughed, he couldn’t help it. “Look…” Jackson cleared his throat and tried to sound magnanimous. “The King wants me to teach you some swordplay so you can fight in the melee, but don't for a minute think that means you have a shot at winning. Every knight you'll be facing will have been training for years. At a minimum."

Scott frowned and seemed to consider what Jackson was saying. "But none of them will be werewolves right?”

Jackson snorted. “If they were, you probably wouldn’t be here.”

“Well, that's got to help my chances at least a little then right?"

Jackson sighed, trying not to get too frustrated with Scott's unflappable optimism. "Alright, then werewolf…“ Jackson whipped his sword around in a quick flourish. “Try again. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Scott brought his sword up like Jackson had shown him and charged.

***

“Ugg…” Scott groaned. Jackson had beaten him until he was black and blue in the training yard for hours. Each time the bruises would fade away as Scott healed Jackson would give him brand new ones in different places. Even with his werewolf healing, Scott felt bone tired. He was dripping in sweat, and Scott hadn't even been wearing any armor. Scott didn't know how knights did it. Although he supposed he'd find out for himself before long. If what Jackson had said was true, the King wanted Scott to fight in this tournament he was planning to throw in Scott’s honor. The one consolation Scott took from his time in the training yard was that he had improved a little over the hours Jackson had spent drilling him. Even Jackson had begrudgingly admitted to Scott he was getting better by the time he finally called their session off.

Climbing up the steps of the castle Scott’s muscles ached. His body might have healed all of his bruises, but Scott still had to get used to all of the extra exertion of fighting the hard way. Scott dragged himself up to the floor where the steward had set up Scott’s room. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to have a nice quiet dinner with his mom and then collapse into his bed. He knew as soon as he rounded the corner of the corridor that wasn’t going to happen. The King was standing outside his mother’s door, in full courtly dress, talking with her. His mother was wearing a fancy dress Scott had never seen before, a faint flush on her cheeks.

"Ah, Scott!" King Peter clapped his hands. "Perfect timing. I was just inviting you and your mother along to join me for dinner."

Scott’s mother shot him a quick apologetic smile over the King’s shoulder.

“I, uh, I don’t know if I’m really dressed for that…” Scott stammered.

“Oh, not to worry.” King Peter waved away Scott’s concerns. “I’ll have someone sent to help you clean up and dress for dinner.” The King smiled broadly. “I’ll see you both soon.”

It occurred to Scott, that for the first time he was seeing the reality of just how impossible it was to tell the King no. Scott swallowed hard and forced himself to smile. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“Excellent.” Peter clasped Scott warmly. “The cook’s already hard at work. Once everything is ready someone will be along to escort you both to my private dining room.”

Scott just nodded mutely.

Melissa laughed quietly when the King had left. Scott hoped with werewolf hearing he really was out of earshot. "I guess you better go get ready."

“Yeah.” Scott shook his head. “Can’t say I was expecting that…”

His mother laughed louder. “Oh honey, I think from now on they’ll be a lot of things we can’t possibly expect.”

The king was true to his word. Within minutes of Scott getting back to his room, a whole team of servants was knocking at the door. Two came in armed with several outfits draped over their arms, and a third servant was wielding shears and a large comb. Two other servants came in after this, although they were both considerably better dressed. It took Scott a moment to realize they weren’t really servants at all, but mages sworn to the royal house. It was only then that Scott realized what was missing. None of the servants had brought up a tub for him to wash up with.

“Um…” Scott hesitated, reluctant to make any of the servants run all the way back to the castle’s lower levels. “How am I supposed to wash…”

“This way.” The two mages broke off from the other servants and led Scott back to the room that actually had his bed in it. One of the servants twisted something on one of the walls and a section of it pulled back, revealing a small square room with dark tile running across every surface. There was a small tube-like protrusion coming out of one of the walls just slightly above Scott’s head, and when Scott took a closer look he saw there were several small holes in one of the central tiles.

Scott frowned. “Sorry. I still don’t see-“

The mages moved to either side of the doorway and pressed their hands against two small blue stones. Scott had thought they were just part of the room’s decoration, but when the mages touched them they started to glow with a soft magical light. Scott blinked uncertainly. “What’s that?”

The mages didn’t answer, they both had their eyes tightly squeezed shut in concentration. Scott heard a strange rumbling coming from behind one of the tiled walls and tensed. What were the mages doing? They were with the royal household so surely Scott could trust them, right? The rumbling stopped suddenly, and with a gurgle, the strange metal started spilling water down in a gentle spray. Scott jumped back in shock.

“What the-“ Scott broke off laughing. He reached one of his hands out under the water tentatively. It was even warm. Scott grinned. “This is incredible. How are you doing this?” Scott turned to ask the mages.

Both of them still had their eyes squeezed shut and didn’t answer. Scott wasn't sure exactly what was happening, but he quickly discovered he didn't care. He happily pulled off the dirty, soiled clothed he'd worn to the training yard and jumped under the warm spray of water. Inside the tiled room, Scott found a small rack with a block of expensive smelling soap on it. He wasted no time in quickly lathering himself up and washing the day away. When Scott was finally finished getting cleaned up, he looked back at the mages uncertainly. "Uh, I'm done then? Unless you need-“

The water snapped off without warning, and both of the mages sagged down to the floor.

“Whoa!” Scott rushed forward to give them a hand and nearly slipped on the wet tile. “We need some help in here!”

Two of the other servants who had come up with possible clothes for Scott came bustling in with a large fluffy towel. They wrapped it around Scott and began drying him off, paying no attention to the two mages on the floor.

"Are-are they going to be okay?" Scott asked. Having someone else dry him off was already an extremely strange feeling, let alone when two people were gasping for breath on the floor.

One of the servants toweling Scott off looked down at the mages curiously. “Oh, sure they’ll be fine. They just need some time to recover.”

“What happened?” Scott nodded back to the strange room. “What is that thing?”

“It’s a shower.” The servant said proudly. “When the castle was built they had these metal pipe things set into along the walls, and the mages can use their magic to pull water from the falls up through the pipes to this.” The servant pointed back at the tiled room.

Scott looked back at the shower with newfound respect. "I never heard of something like that before."

“Yes, well…” The servant shrugged. “As you can see it takes a great deal of power to make it work. It’s not practical for any but the most important people.”

"Right…" It still baffled Scott to know he was now seen as one of those people. "Well, um thank you," Scott said to the mages awkwardly. They were still laying on the ground, eyes closed and chests heaving. "Both of you," Scott said awkwardly. "I'm uh, sorry I didn't get your names…"

“Please sir,” The servant who had been talking to Scott brushed his concern aside. “They were just doing their job. Now come. We need to finish getting you ready…”

After another twenty minutes of being poked and prodded at, Scott was finally deemed suitable to having dinner with the King. The mages had recovered enough to stand by then and hobbled out of Scott’s room a little unsteadily. As the other three were finishing fussing with Scott’s hair, another servant in the livery of the King came to take Scott to dinner. Scott followed after him eagerly. The warm water from the shower had helped ease some of the aches in Scott's muscles, without that distraction he found he was hungrier than he thought. The servant smiled, and ducked away when they finally reached the King’s dining room, leaving Scott to enter by himself.

The room was bigger than Scott had expected. Even as the King’s private dining room the table could have sat ten people comfortably. At the moment the King was sitting at the head of the table, opposite the door Scott had just come in through, with Scott’s mother taking the only other occupied seat on the King’s right. The table was filled with enough food to feed three people for a week, and all of it looked delicious. There was so much variety too. Scott saw what looked like a roasted chicken, thick slices of ham, a whole plate of cheeses. There was some kind of vegetable dish Scott didn't recognize, and two loaves of bread with real butter. There were fresh fruits too, bunches of grapes, and a large bowl of apples, plus more exotic ones Scott had only heard of before, cherries and oranges and even some limes. Those more tropical fruits would have traveled for hundreds of miles up the roads from the south just to be served at the King's table. Scott's mouth watered.

“Come in Scott!” King Peter smiled warmly. “Sit down. Help yourself to anything, there’s plenty to go around.”

Scott took the seat on the King’s left side and started filling his plate. “Thank you, King Peter. This… all this is incredible.”

The King chuckled. "From now on Scott, you can eat like this every night."

Scott shook his head, smiling. “It just doesn’t feel real yet. It’s a lot to take in…” Scott flushed. “Meaning no offense your Majesty.” He added quickly.

King Peter laughed heartily. “None taken.” He popped a grape into his mouth and smiled over at Scott. “You and I have more in common than you might think Scott.” His tone became more serious. “I was never meant to be King either.”

"I'm sorry about what happened to your family." Scott offered. “ Can’t imagine something like that…”

Melissa nodded from across the table. “Losing Scott’s father was hard enough.” She nodded to the King. “All of Beacon admires how you’ve carried on King Peter.”

“That’s kind of you to say.” Peter sighed. His eyes looked distant. “The pain will likely never go away, but I’ve made my peace with it...” The King blinked and focused back in on Scott. “But as I said, I understand a little of what you’re going through young man. More than any king or queen before me at any rate. It can be a lot. As they say, heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Peter smiled. “But you’ll grow into it. I’ll be here to help you every step of the way.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” Scott bowed his head. “That means a lot.”

“And besides-“ the King chuckled. “I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon!”

Scott laughed and nodded.

“Tell me though,” The King smiled warmly at Scott. “How’d did your training go today?”

Melissa frowned. “What training?”

“With Jackson, er Lord Whittemore.” Scott corrected himself. “He started teaching me some of the basics of sword fighting.”

“More than just the basics I hope.” Peter grinned. “And don’t worry about a title here Scott, I doubt Jackson would mind if his friends and family referred to him informally behind closed doors.”

“Oh.” Scott considered it for a moment. “Alright then.”

“Did Jackson already tell you about the tournament I’m planning?” Peter asked.

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Scott…” Peter laughed. “What did I just say? When it’s only us I think we can drop some of the formalities.”

“Yes…sir?” Scott offered tentatively. Anything less just felt wrong.

Peter smiled and shook his head. “It’s a start.”

Scott smiled back. “But yes, Jackson told me about the tournament.”

“Good.” Peter leaned back in his chair. “because I’m going to be announcing it tonight. And I want you and your mother right there by my side.”

"We'd be honored, your majesty," Melissa said.

“And if you think things are crazy now Scott just wait.” Peter chuckled. “Because after this everyone will know who you are.”

***

The courtyard was packed to full capacity. The King had yet to arrive on the balcony of course, but Stiles saw almost every noble in the city crammed into the first few rows. There was Lord Finstock on one side. Next to him were Lydia Martin and her mother, Lady Natalie Martin, the current headmistress of Beacon's magical academy and a powerful mage in her own right. Stiles spotted the Steiner twins too, in matching fine silk cloaks. After the nobility came those who's wealth bought them rank, high-class merchants and traders who had built up financial empires throughout the kingdom of Beacon. Then came the lower nobility, fallen houses or distant cousins of the true family branches, and finally the very back of the courtyard was filled with the servants of all of the aforementioned high standing citizens. But the people waiting to hear the King speak didn't end there, thanks to Deaton's efforts, and a little help from Stiles' himself, when the King finally did speak his voice and image would be broadcast all over the city. There was an old standing network of crystals spread throughout the city of Beacon for just this purpose, and after Deaton had finished up layering on the protection spells in the courtyard it had been Stiles' job to go around and make sure all of the crystals were in working order. Some had needed to be recharged with bursts of raw mana, and some others, mostly in the lower ring of the city had gone missing years ago. Still, the vast majority of the city would be able to see and hear the King tonight.

Stiles could have joined the rest of the city in crowding around one of the crystals, his own station as just Deaton’s apprentice didn’t rank him one of the coveted spots in the courtyard, but Stiles had wanted to be closer to the action. He’d opted instead to take up a position in one of the empty castle rooms that looked out over the courtyard. It wasn’t technically allowed, but Stiles had access to the castle as Deaton’s apprentice, and unsealing locks, even magical ones, was one of the first things any novice mage learned how to do. So Stiles pulled a chair up to the window of his own private viewing area and settled in.

He didn’t have to wait long. One of the nice things about King Peter was his constant punctuality. Scott and Melissa flanked him on either side of the balcony, and Stiles spied Deaton bringing up the rear.

“Citizens!” King Peter’s voice boomed out over the crowd, to scattered applause. “Allow me to finally formally introduce the new heir to our fine city, Scott McCall, and his mother, the Lady Melissa!”

That got even more applause from the crowd, and while none of the peerage of the realm would stoop to shouting, Stiles thought he could hear several cheers coming up from outside the castle.

“And in honor of this momentous new hope for Beacon, I will be throwing the finest tournament the realm has ever seen.” King Peter declared. “There will be a melee with one hundred gold wolves for the winner-“

Stiles gaped out at the balcony. A hundred gold wolves was an astonishing amount of coin to put up as a prize.

“-and there will be singers and dancers. The finest performers, all coming to our fine city…”

A tingle rang up Stiles' spine, almost like a magical shiver. He frowned. He'd never felt something like that before. A quick glance out back out at the courtyard showed everything looked normal. The King was still speaking, but Stiles tuned him out. Deaton was standing right behind King Peter, looking similarly perplexed. Stiles stood up from his chair and poked his head out into the hallway. Something strange was going on. There was already a bit of magical charge in the air this close to the balcony with all of the protective spells Deaton had put in place, but this was something else. It felt like it was pushing up against the warding. Stiles could feel the wards, almost like a phantom limb. Deaton had performed the actual spell work, but Stiles had helped provide some of the energy, and clearly, that had been enough to tie him into the spell.

“Hello?” Stiles wandered down the hallway towards the nearest anchor point in the protective spells. He frowned. There were supposed to be knights guarding this part of the hallway. Where were they? Stiles continued down the hallway cautiously and finally spotted the crystal Deaton had mounted onto the wall to bolster the defensive spells he'd erected. Someone was standing in front of it with their arms raised. Sparks were dancing along their fingertips. "What are you doing?" Stiles demanded.

The figure whipped around to face Stiles. They had a hood pulled low over their face, and in the darkness, Stiles could just barely see their lips moving. That was all the warning he got. The next second a fireball came racing down the corridor aimed right at Stiles. Stiles swore loudly and dove around the corner. The fireball passed close enough to singe the bottom of Stiles’ pants. Stiles patted the flames out and risked a quick peek around the corner. The hooded figure was moving closer to Stiles, their arms already moving through a second casting. Stiles bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Whoever the figure was, they had some serious magical power. There was no way Stiles would be able to hold them off-

“There they are!” The shout came from the other end of the corridor, back the way Stiles’ had come from. A dozen knights came storming down the hallway, Jennifer the King’s personal aide leading the charge. Lightning sparked from Jennifer’s fingers, and she unleashed a huge bolt at the cloaked figure. It collided with the mystery figure's second fireball, exploding in a torrent of heat and light.

When the smoke finally cleared there was no sign of the hooded figure.

“After them!’ Jennifer shouted. “Search every floor, every room until you find them!” The knights took off running. It was only then that Jennifer finally noticed Stiles. She seemed to freeze for a second. “You’re Stilinski. Deaton’s apprentice?”

Stiles nodded mutely.

“You will speak nothing of this, do you hear me?” Jennifer demanded. She brandished the King’s signet ring. “Nothing. By command of the King.”

“Y-yes.”

“Good.” Jennifer gave Stiles one final look before stalking off after the knights.

Stiles watched her go, his mind racing. Someone had tried to get through the defensive wards to attack the King again. Someone with _magic_.

***

Scott smiled wearily as he headed back to his room. The King’s announcement had gone off without a hitch. Nobles had come up to talk to him afterward, to praise his speech and congratulate Scott on being named heir. King Peter had named them all one by one and introduced Scott to them. Scott wasn’t sure how he was going to remember all of their names. The corridor with his rooms in it was dark by the time Scott got there, the only light coming from the low burning torch Scott himself was carrying. As tired as he was, Scott still felt restless. A hundred gold wolves as a prize for the tournament. Not that long ago that kind of money would have seemed like a fantasy to Scott, and now someday he'd inherit the royal coffers. Scott's mind felt like it just kept going in circles, stumbling over the same things again and again.

Scott needed to just take his mind off of the transition to being heir for a little while. He considered looking in on his mother, but she had headed up awhile before Scott and there wasn’t any light escaping from underneath her door. Scott smiled to himself. He wouldn’t wake her, at least one of them should get a good night’s sleep.

The barest scrape of stone made Scott’s ears perk up. He probably would never have noticed it before he was a werewolf. The noise was coming from the other end of the hall, back towards Jackson's rooms. "Hello?" Scott called out. He didn't hear any response but the sound of stone shifting stopped. Scott walked down the hall cautiously. "Who's there?"

“Who do you think?”

Bit by bit Scott’s torch revealed Jackson Whittemore. He was still dressed in his fine clothes from the announcement, but Scott noticed he’d donned a plain black robe over top of them, the hood pulled up. Scott frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Heading out.” Jackson jerked his head behind him, and Scott saw part of the wall had opened up, a dark spiral staircase coiling down inside it.

“I didn’t see that before.”

“Secret passage.” Jackson rolled his eyes. “The stewards don’t exactly include them on the tours. They don’t even know most of them exist.” Jackson gave Scott an appraising look. “What are you still doing up? I’d have thought the new heir of Beacon would need his rest…”

“I’m just getting back.” Scott shrugged. “I don’t know how I’ll sleep though… Where are you headed?”

“Out.”

“Out?” Scott frowned. “Like outside of the castle? For what?”

Jackson seemed to study him closely. “Do you want to find out?”

“Wait-“ Scott took a second to parse what Jackson was asking him. “Are you saying I can come with you?”

Jackson shrugged. “You’ve got as much right to the passage as I do. I show you the way out, what you do after that is up to you.”

Scott took a steadying breath. The idea of being out in the upper ring after dark gave him a little thrill, even if as the heir now, he would probably be allowed. “Okay.”

Jackson nodded once. “Come on then. And lose that.” He pointed to Scott’s torch. “Can’t have it giving us away.”

Scott stuck the torch in one of the empty wall scones and followed Jackson down into the staircase. Once they were both clear of the door Jackson hit a button on the wall and the passageway closed behind them. He started down without saying a word, navigating the staircase’s twists and turns in the dark with practiced ease. Scott followed him down, finding that when his own eyes adjusted, he could see easily in the dark. Another perk of being a werewolf he supposed. Scott lost track of time as Jackson led them on. There were occasional branching passages, but Jackson never deviated from the main course. Finally, they came to a stone wall that was cool to the touch.

"Stand back." Jackson ran his hand along the stone for a second looking for the right spot. Scott spotted a small groove in the rock and was about to speak up when Jackson found it. He hit a spot to the right of the groove and a small section of the wall slid away. Jackson climbed up, and out into the night. Scott followed him and gasped a little when he saw where they were.

They'd cleared the castle entirely. The wall they'd come out of was one of the ones that separated the castle from the rest of the upper ring. Scott looked back as Jackson closed the wall, any sign of the passage disappearing completely.

“That’s so cool.” Scott froze for a second. “But what’s to stop someone from getting in that way? Isn’t it dangerous-“

"They'd have to find it first," Jackson said flatly. "And even if someone did there are magical wards all over the castle. No one who isn't supposed to be inside is getting in this way."

“Oh.” Scott sighed in relief.

Jackson started walking away purposefully, Scott hesitated a second and then jogged after him.

“So uh, where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

Jackson led them down the quiet street of the upper ring until they came to one of the larger noble manor houses. Jackson walked right up to the gate and laid his hand upon the metal. It vibrated for a second, and then swung open.

“How did you do that?” Scott asked as he hurried to follow Jackson inside. The gate slid closed behind them. “I thought you didn’t… you know…”

"I don't have magic," Jackson said tersely. "That was just a threshold ward. I'm allowed inside so the magic opened the gates for me."

“Oh…” Scott frowned. “Wait, then whose house is this?”

Scott never got his answer, because as soon he and Jackson took another step they were met with a wall of light and sound. From outside the house had seemed quiet and dark just like all the others, but now torches seemed to burn everywhere, and Scott could hear music and raucous laughter pouring out of the house.

“What is this?” Scott asked, shouting to be heard over all of the noise.

Jackson snorted. “They don’t have parties in the lower rings?”

“Uh…” Scott took in the sheer scale of the house. “Not like this…”

Jackson headed inside, and Scott tagged along. They were greeted almost as soon as they walked in by a pair of twin brothers.

"Jackson!" One of the brothers threw his arm around Jackson's shoulder, a drink balanced in his other hand. "You made it."

“And you brought a friend.” The second brother smirked at Scott. “Do my eyes deceive me, or is the newly minted heir of Beacon at our humble house party?”

“Uh, hi.” Scott held out his hand for the guy to shake. “I’m Scott. You’re uh-“ Scott racked his brain. He was sure the King had introduced him to these brothers just a few hours ago… “Ethan and Aiden right?”

The brother shaking Scott’s hand smiled. “I’m Ethan, that’s Aiden.” He nodded to his twin.

"Don't you two start that." A redhead- strawberry blonde- Scott mentally corrected himself, Stiles had pontificated to him about it often enough, came over to join them. Scott would have recognized her anywhere. "Lydia Martin." She moved the twin out of the way to shake Scott's hand herself. "this is Aiden here-“ She indicated the twin Scott had just been talking to. "-and that's Ethan." She nodded to the twin still talking to Jackson.

Aiden smirked. “You’re no fun anymore Lydia.”

“Mm.” Lydia rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, enjoy the party man!” Aiden clapped Scott on the shoulder and then seemed to disappear off into the sea of bodies, along with Lydia, Jackson, and Ethan.

Scott wandered a little further inside, feeling lost in the crowd. It was clear most of these people knew each other and had for a while. At some point, someone offered Scott a drink, and he took it, nursing it bit by bit as he tried to find a quieter corner of the estate. He hadn’t had much alcohol before, and he didn’t want to overdo it.

“You look a little lost.”

A gorgeous brunette in a sleek black dress walked up next to Scott. "You’re new here too?"

“Is it that obvious?” Scott smiled nervously.

“Only because you’re hiding in the corner.” The girl smiled. “If he wanted to, I’m sure the heir to Beacon could be making waves out there.” She nodded towards some of the larger crowds.

“Is that right?” Scott laughed. “What about you? How come you’re over here?”

She winked at him. “Oh, I only concern myself with people who matter."

“And since I’m a prince now I matter is that it?” Scott asked dryly.

“To all of them maybe.” The girl grinned. “But then I’m not from Beacon.”

Scott frowned. “Where are you from then?”

“All over really.” The girl sighed. “My father is a major merchant, so he has holdings all across the continent. Rumor got out about a new heir being named and my father figured something like this tournament would happen. And everyone knows tournaments are good for business.”

“I guess so.” Scott was having trouble wrapping his head around a conversation where someone wasn’t just seeing him as the prince again. Sure, he had his mother and Stiles, but it wasn’t the same. He’d missed this. “I uh, I’m Scott by the way. But I guess you probably already knew that…”

"Nice to meet you, Scott." The girl smiled wider, and Scott’s stomach fluttered. “I’m Allison.”


End file.
